The Argument
by blueseacowboy
Summary: A WHN for the episode "Blow Up"
1. Chapter 1

The Argument

A WHN to the fourth season episode, Blow Up

Chapter 1

Admiral Harriman Nelson, head of the Nelson Institute for Marine Research and owner of the submarine _Seaview_ , strode quickly from his office in the Administration Building of his institute located above the azure waters of the Pacific Ocean and headed down a gentle slope to a two-story building that housed the newest addition to the ever expanding NIMR campus: the Bioprospecting Research Division.

Entering the squat building quickly, he glanced about in appreciation at the array of vegetation that greeted him. Palms, ferns and cactuses were the most obvious varieties that he saw but closer inspection revealed an assortment of flowering plants as well as containers of what looked to be mosses, liverworts and algae. The whole area was lit by different colored lights along the roof of the building: an apparent experiment in determining what color light produced the best results for growth.

His perusal of the structure and its living occupants was interrupted by the enthusiastic call of one of his newest employees.

"Admiral! Oh, I'm so glad you made the time to come down and see what we're up to!" Doctor Ben Haggens called in what Nelson thought was a way too perky tone for such an early hour.

"It's my pleasure, Ben," he replied with an easy smile as he watched the young, bearded and bespectacled researcher approach at what he could only describe as a cross between a walk and a skip. "The new Bioprospecting Division of NIMR is a bit of a gamble on my part but I'm hoping you and the other teams will make me appear to be a genius."

"Well, you're already that, Admiral," Ben laughed easily. "What I wanted to show you was some of our most promising research so far."

Handing him a clipboard, Nelson studied the data with interest. "I'm impressed, Ben," he said after a few moments going over the latest research from the team. "If we keep seeing the results evinced here, we can begin the new protocols as early as next week on some of the projects."

"I think so, too. I'm very excited about some of the findings! A few of our plants are showing a lot of promise in controlling inflammation from conditions such as arthritis, lupus or even psoriasis. A few even show promise in helping asthmatics!"

"Asthma? I don't see that here, Ben. Do you have a report handy on that?"

"I do! I'll get it right now," he replied enthusiastically, turning away and heading to a computer behind Harry who continued to look over the simple listing of the ongoing research in the department. He smiled as he saw how much the team had accomplished since he'd last been able to find the time to make his way down to the relatively new building.

The research and the success of at least this team in the new Bioprospecting building was a balm to Nelson's soul. So much had gone wrong in the last few weeks that any good news was a relief. Budget problems and personnel issues seemed to dog him at every turn, but the guilt that filled him over the circumstances of the last mission seemed to consume his very soul and he found he was at a loss at how to let it go.

"Here you go, Admiral," Ben called, handing him more than a few pages. "I also printed out the research we just started on possible cancer treatments."

Pulled from his dark thoughts, Nelson smiled at the reams of research the young scientist had handed him. "I must say again, Ben that I'm impressed. Even if NIMR doesn't come up with actual cures or treatments, the research you're doing will be beneficial to others."

"Well, if it's all the same, I'd rather NIMR gets the credit."

"I agree of course. I just wish the other division team was producing the same results," he added sadly, a pang going through him like a knife when he remembered the events that had occurred there a few months ago.

"I'm sorry for what happened, Admiral. I never saw it. I never had any inkling he was, well you know."

"Yes, I know, Ben. No one saw it I'm afraid," he sighed trying to push the dismal thoughts away as a wave of remorse and anger washed over him. "Perhaps if I'd been more focused on the Institute instead of, well, personal concerns, it may have been discovered earlier. Not that it would have made that much difference I suppose. I chose poorly in whom I appointed as head of that team."

"It wasn't your fault, sir! He had a greedy, dark side he just never showed to anyone. Some people are chameleons I suppose."

"Yes, chameleons. That's a good analogy. Well, I just want you to know how happy I am with…"

The shrill ringing of a phone nearby interrupted Harry.

"I'm sorry. Let me get that," Ben apologized as he hurried to pick up the phone. "Bioprospecting, Haggens speaking. Yes, he is. Just a moment. Admiral? It's for you. It's your secretary."

"Thanks, Ben," he frowned, unsure what Angie could be calling about. "Angie? What's…he is, huh. Angry is he? Tell him I want him in my office by the time I get back to the Admin Building. No excuses. Tell him to wait; I don't care what he has on his agenda. I'll be there shortly."

"Problems, sir?"

"There are always problems it seems, Ben," he sighed. "Keep up the good work and touch base with me next week about stepping up your research."

"I will and thank you for giving me this opportunity!"

Nodding, Nelson strode quickly from the research building, anger burning inside him and propelling him up the hill to his office. A few minutes walk and he began to slow down, his irritation fading a bit. It wouldn't do to confront the man waiting in his office in his current mood. Stopping, he took several deep breaths before he felt himself calming down. He only hoped the man waiting for him had done the same.

Running up the stairs to the executive level of the building, he strode down the hall and opened the door to his office with a yank. Stopping by his secretary's desk, he asked brusquely, "Is he in there?"

"Yes sir. He came in about ten minutes ago. He looked angry," Angie Wood, Nelson's private secretary, replied with a frown, knowing something was wrong.

"He's not the only one," he responded as he headed for his office, opened the door and closed it with just a touch too much force.

~O~

It didn't take long before the two obstinate men inside the office began bellowing, each trying to outdo the other. Angie Wood covered her ears in an attempt at blocking out the argument raging in the admiral's office.

She'd always thought the admiral's door impenetrable to his deep, often loud, voice. But judging by the fact Chip Morton was suddenly standing by her desk, a concerned look on his face, it seemed it wasn't.

"What are they arguing about now?" he asked gesturing to the door.

"Guess," she replied unhappily.

Nelson's voice carried through the closed door. "Not only did you not supervise the repairs on _Seaview_ in dry dock, you missed the last meetings concerning those repairs, as well as a briefing on our next mission. Your presence wasn't a mere suggestion, Captain."

"I'm sorry. I thought you understood."

"Understood? Understood that you chose once more to put ONI over your duties as _Seaview's_ captain? Is that what you mean?"

"Yes! Yes it is. Admiral Johnson informed you I was..."

"Informed! Not asked. Informed! And well after the fact I might add and before I had a chance to do anything about it."

"You know how important what I do for ONI is. At least I was under the impression you did. I thought…"

"You can't keep taking these missions, Lee! You come back injured or in some dark mood or other and no good to the crew or the Institute for days…weeks!"

"No good to…thanks a lot," Crane yelled sarcastically. "I'd have thought _you_ of all people would understand. You ran the same types of missions when you…"

"But that was my job! My _only_ job! That was what I was ordered to do. You have another job. One I thought you were happy with!"

"I am happy with it! But it's duty, Admiral. You know what that means. You yourself…"

"Leave me out of this. Yes, I did run missions. Too many missions. And I paid a heavy price for each and every one. A price I'm trying to get you to see will catch up to you eventually. You're going to need to choose! Are you _Seaview's_ captain or are you an ONI agent?"

The abrupt sound of the door opening caused both Morton and Angie to look up in surprise. They watched as Lee turned back, his face red in anger and pointed a finger at Nelson. "Don't ask me to choose, Admiral. You may not like the choice I make. In fact, I _guarantee_ you won't. But if you want me to choose now, then I choose duty to my country over _Seaview_. And you. And if that isn't good enough for you, then to hell with you and the Institute!" he yelled as he slammed the door closed and stalked out without acknowledging the two in the outer office who stared at him in shock.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Chip asked quietly.

"Yeah. I think he just quit," Angie answered softly.

"Damn. I'll go after him. Maybe you should go talk to the admiral."

"Trade you," Angie muttered as she watched Chip walk out.

Sighing, she rose and walked to the door to Nelson's office, putting her ear to the wood, listening. When she didn't hear anything being thrown, she knocked tentatively. Hearing a soft "Come in," she opened the door, expecting to see the admiral behind his desk. Instead she saw the man standing by the window, the drapes pulled aside and his gaze fixed on something below.

"Admiral, are you all right?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm just fine, Angie," he murmured as he felt her come up beside him and look over his shoulder to the scene he was watching being played out below. The unmistakable form of Lee Crane stalked from the main door of the Administration Building and pulled up short when he was grabbed by Chip Morton and spun around. She could tell from here Chip was laying into Lee who stood with his arms folded arrogantly over his chest and she smiled slightly; glad someone had the admiral's back.

"I'm afraid I let my anger get to me again," Nelson murmured as he watched the two men yell at each other.

"Not you, sir. I've never known you to lose your temper," Angie replied with a slight grin.

Turning slightly he saw her smile and shook his head. "He was pretty mad. I should have found another way of presenting my case to him but the budget requests I have waiting for me and the lack of money for them didn't leave me in a very good mood. Nor did it help that I talked to Admiral Johnson this morning about his last mission and how close Lee came to not coming back," he said, knowing Admiral William Johnson, head of ONI, was reticent to answer his questions about the operation but finally gave in after some heated discussion.

"He'll settle down. He always does," she replied loyally.

"Maybe. Maybe this is the one time he doesn't come back for more," he muttered as he watched Lee throw up his hands, push Chip away and stalk to his car. In sadness, he watched his captain, and one of his best friends, tear off down the road.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three days had gone by and Lee Crane had yet to reappear. Chip had told Nelson he just needed time to cool off and had assured him that the one and only time Lee had called he'd informed him he wanted to see him to talk. But _Seaview's_ captain had yet to put in an appearance. Friday morning drifted into afternoon and Nelson found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on doing the paperwork that littered his desk, the scene between him and Lee, among other things, clouding his thoughts.

Throwing down the last report in frustration, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes, closing them for a moment as if the mere act could hide the last few months from his mind. Too many long hours spent working on reports or constantly searching for the money to fund the unending requests for projects, not to mention the endless amount of paperwork that accompanied the "prestigious" position of head of the Nelson Institute of Marine Research, began to gnaw at Nelson and he felt he'd had enough to last for a long time.

With _Seaview_ having a few repairs and upgrades done on her, and not scheduled for another mission for two weeks, he came to the abrupt decision he'd had enough of shore life, phone calls, paperwork and all his other problems to last a long time. The ocean beckoned to him and he was tired of denying her call. Perhaps somewhere out on the open water he would find peace. Perhaps out there he could find a way of dealing with the guilt that consumed him over the events of the last cruise. Perhaps out there he could forget the harsh words he and Lee had thrown at each other. Perhaps.

Rising, he strolled to his office window and peered out, hoping he'd see Lee Crane's sports car in its usual parking spot, but found it as empty as it had been for the last three days. Sighing, he turned his gaze to _Seaview_ , anchored safely in her surface pen, and tried to ignore the twinge of guilt that flitted through him as he watched the men on her deck working or on the dock by her side. Damages done during their last fateful cruise had been repaired in dry dock in a timely fashion and she had returned a few days ago to her home. All that remained before she would be ready for her next mission were a few upgrades he'd approved on the computer systems which Chip was overseeing and a thorough check by his own people of the repairs done to the missile fuel system while in dry dock.

As he thought of his executive officer, the small bit of peace he'd found perusing his creation fled as he recalled the last cruise and all that had happened. For three weeks he'd tried to put behind him all he'd said and done when he'd experienced a drug-induced paranoia episode of massive proportions. He'd tried his best to push aside the recriminations and guilt that filled him at the loss of a young crewman's life, and what he still perceived as the loss of respect and trust from someone, perhaps more than one person, he admired.

Staring with unseeing eyes at the serene vista before him, he thought back to the last cruise, remembering the circumstances that haunted his sleep and robbed him of his innate ability to think. It had started as a simple mission. _Seaview_ would act as a decoy so the Navy could test a new sonar system. It should have been a piece of cake but it had morphed into something else. A leak in the missile fuel system had endangered the mission: a mission he had felt, at the time, to be of importance.

Presented with the option of scuttling the mission and heading to dry dock or fixing the issue himself, he'd chosen to do the fix. A decision he now saw as unwise had almost resulted in his death. If not for the emergency breathing apparatus Lee had given him shortly before he'd started the repairs, he _would_ be dead.

But with the leak repaired, he'd dropped the wrench he'd used and the result was an explosion he'd thought for sure had killed him and possibly his crew. To his amazement, he'd regained consciousness, found the EBA lying by his side and climbed unsteadily up the ladder to welcoming arms.

Beyond that his recollection of the hours after was murky. Bits and pieces of memory had returned and most were exceedingly unpleasant, embarrassing and remorseful. Not just for him but also for his crew.

Looking back on what had happened; he couldn't help but feel the events of the last cruise were the source of what was wrong between him and Lee: the argument simply a symptom. How could he expect Lee to forgive so easily what he had done when he couldn't forgive himself? Although he knew the gas he'd breathed in had caused him to act as some heartless, unreasonable tyrant, he felt sorely the guilt and remorse at the loss of the crewman...James Michael McDonald...deep down inside. _His_ orders caused the death of the young man. _His_ orders had resulted in the damage to his boat. _His_ orders had caused the apparent rift between him and Lee and he was overwhelmed at times at what had happened. In retrospect, he shouldn't have attempted the repair. But he had and the result was something he would need to deal with and move on from. If he could.

Lee had followed his orders and he suspected his captain felt his own share of guilt because he hadn't countermanded them, the loss of McDonald a weight on _his_ heart, too. But he felt sure more than guilt was eating at Lee. He couldn't help but feel Lee blamed him for the death of his crewman and the injuries to the crewmembers, as well as the damage done to _Seaview_ , just as he himself did. The way Lee had left on his mission so abruptly before the cruise had even finished, and before he had even been released from Sick Bay, seemed to bear that out.

One minute he was recovering in Sick Bay from the gas still in his lungs, relief seemingly on Lee's face that he was back to his old self and the next he was informed Lee was leaving on a mission. No asking for permission, no last check on how he was, he was just gone. Perhaps it _had_ been sudden. Perhaps necessary. Or perhaps Lee hadn't wanted to face him for fear his true feelings concerning all that had occurred would be apparent.

And then there was Chip. Nelson cringed when he remembered the awful words he'd spoken to his executive officer, telling him he couldn't trust him. From what deep, dark, drug-filled chasm inside of him had those words come from? Closing his eyes he thought back to the time in Sick Bay, relief warring with guilt as he began to remember what had happened, what he'd done. And what he'd said.

"Admiral, I think what you need is some sleep," Lee had said a hand consolingly on his shoulder.

"Couldn't agree more," Jamie concurred. "You've been through a lot. Your body has been through a lot. Rest is..."

"Yes, yes, yes, I'll rest but first I need to talk to a few people," he'd said remembering how he'd talked to Sharkey and how he'd ordered Kowalski to drink a cup of hot coffee he'd been sure had been laced with poison. And how he'd destroyed the trust he and Chip had always shared.

"Later," Doc urged. "Sleep..."

"No. I need to at least talk to Chip. And you," he'd interrupted, suddenly noticing the livid bruise on Doc's face. "I...I'm sorry I hit you. I don't know why I did that."

"It was the gas Admiral," Lee had soothed.

"It wasn't your fault, Admiral. The Skipper's right."

"It feels like my fault. I apologize."

"Accepted. Now to bed."

"After I talk to Chip."

Lee looked to Jamie and shrugged, unsure what was so important that he needed to talk to Chip now.

"I'll tell him you want to see him," Lee had assured.

"Thank you," he'd said as he watched Lee shoot a quick glance to Jamie before leaving.

"At least sit on the bunk over there while you wait. It's more comfortable than this chair," Jamie had said.

Agreeing simply because he was running out of the little bit of energy he had left, he shuffled to the offered bunk and settled on it, his feet dangling over the side as he waited anxiously for his executive officer...and friend. He struggled to find a reason for his harsh words and for some semblance of an excuse but there really wasn't one. No excuse at all and he found himself remembering his relationship with Chip Morton that stretched from Annapolis to now.

Twenty minutes passed and Harry was beginning to think Chip might not show. He had every reason to think he might refuse but being the consummate officer he was hadn't as he finally stepped into the room, his eyes shooting to the admiral who sat perched on the bunk. His face wiped clean of all emotion, he'd strode to him.

"You wanted to see me, Admiral?" he'd said, his voice stiff and aloof, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Yes, I did. Please, sit down."

"If it's all the same, I'll stand."

"It isn't all the same and please sit," he'd ordered as nicely as he could. "I'd prefer to not have to look up at you."

"Aye, sir," he'd muttered as he sat.

"Look Chip. You have every reason to be mad at me. Every reason to be hurt. I...I said some harsh things to you and I have no excuse."

"I'm not asking for excuses. Sir," he'd added with a twitch to his lips. "It's clear to me we don't have the relationship I thought we did."

"Chip, that's simply not true. I was under the influence of..."

"I know what you were under the influence of, sir and it doesn't make it better or explain. My experience has always been that people say what they really feel when pressed or when their guard is down. The drug only let your guard down."

"It's not how I feel! I _do_ trust you!" he'd all but yelled. "I trust you with my life. I trust you with my boat and my crew. You have to know that!"

He'd struggled to form the words he knew Chip needed to hear from him when he saw his words had no effect on his executive officer. Lowering his head he stared at the floor, unwilling to see the look on Chip's face: hurt mingled with disbelief and anger.

"There are few people in my life I trust implicitly, Chip," he'd said quietly. "You and Lee are two. Believe me when I say that. It's not mere platitude. I truly mean it. I..."

"I don't mean to sound like a petulant child," he'd interrupted, "but why did you say it? If you don't feel that way, you wouldn't have said it."

"I...I don't know why, Chip. I don't. It's not true." After a few seconds he added, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "But...it was once."

"Once?

"The first time I met you at the Academy, I couldn't figure you out."

"Meaning?"

"You took whatever anyone threw at you and never blinked. Even in my classes, I could never tell if you were mad as hell at me, confused or amused."

"You did try hard to get reactions from me," he agreed, relaxing a bit as he saw Nelson's sincerity.

"And I never did. You see, Chip I prided myself on being able to read people. As an ONI agent, you need to read expressions. One twitch, one quick glance away can expose a traitor or imposter. It saved my life more than once. But with you, I got nothing. It frustrated me at first."

"At first?"

"I began to realize that you used that mask to protect yourself. Never give people an opportunity to know what you think or feel and you have the upper hand. I think, perhaps, that helped to hone your command presence. Don't show emotions and give yourself away. Don't show fear in the face of danger and your men will take their clues from you and react as you do. I've seen that in the Control Room when we face some danger. That implacable presence of yours, that unreadable expression, has steadied the crew. And me. When I realized that, I watched you closer and I knew you were going to be an excellent officer. And I was right," he'd added softly. "I do remember the one time I got a big reaction from you. There was no way I could not know what you were feeling. It was written plain as day on your face."

"Sir?"

"When I asked you to be a part of my dream...to be my XO of _Seaview_."

"Well you surprised the hell out of me!"

"Why?"

"Me? Xo of the most fantastic sub in the world?"

"You didn't think you qualified?"

"Well, maybe I just didn't know you thought that highly of me. I kind of thought you disliked me. You were always on me it seemed. Lee I knew you liked but you seemed to go out of your way to ...to..."

"Annoy you?"

"Well yeah."

"Once I figured you out, I was testing you. And you passed. Once I knew your facade wasn't the true you, once I saw what you were and what you were going to become, an exceptional officer, I knew I could trust you. Then and now. Besides, why would I ask someone I didn't trust or like to sail with me and be a part of my dream?"

"I...guess I didn't think of that."

"I can only surmise I'd flashed back to that time in Annapolis when you frustrated me to no end and I couldn't read you. It's not an excuse, Chip. Believe me I don't offer it as an excuse because there really isn't one. I called you out in front of the Control Room crew. There is no justification for that," he'd said, his voice growing softer as he pondered the power words had.

"The Control Room crew has seen a lot of arguments between the command crew, sir. They'll move on."

"Will we?" he'd asked quietly, daring to look up at his executive officer.

"Yes, sir. We will," he'd said after a moment's silence. "I...I have." Rising, he'd looked down at him with a slight smile. "How's that for an open face?"

"Clear as a bell, Mister Morton," he'd replied, relief taking a bit of the edge off his guilt. "Now get out of here and back to taking care of my sub."

"Aye sir," he'd replied.

Harry breathed a heavy sigh out his lips as he fought the torturing memories away. Although the two men had talked and he'd apologized repeatedly, the guilt for that, as well as the loss of the crewman, festered inside him. Somehow, someway, he needed to find a way to move on, to forgive himself just as his crew, Chip and he'd thought Lee said they had. After his and Lee's argument, part of him now questioned whether that was really true.

Feeling the world closing in on him again, he decided he needed time away. Alone. By himself. Turning his gaze from _Seaview_ to his sailboat bobbing in the slight current just south of the above ground sub pen, a sight smile crossed his lips. It had been a long time since he'd had her out, a long time since he'd had the _time_ to take her out, and he suddenly longed to be out on the water with the breeze in his hair, the sun on his face and his worries and, he hoped his guilt, left onshore.

Knowing _Seaview_ and the Institute were in capable hands,he strode to his desk and sat down to make a few calls then grabbed his briefcase, threw a few minor proposals and some folders containing the blasted budget requests there was no money for into it then added a few books he'd been meaning to read. Might as well take some reading as well as some work along for the long nights, he reasoned. Looking about his office all seemed in order and he grabbed his cover, coat, briefcase and a pile of other files and left the office.

"Angie, I think I'm going to leave early today. In fact, I thought I'd take _The_ _Folly_ out for a little sail. I'll be back Sunday afternoon at the latest," he called as he left his office, placing the finished reports on her desk for typing. "The top two folders need to be locked up, the rest need typed up but don't work on that now. There's really no hurry on them."

"Yes sir. Do you want me to ask someone to go along with you? Maybe I could try to track Lee down. He…"

"Uh…no. Thanks. Even if we knew where Lee was, I doubt he'd want to be anywhere near me right now. Otherwise, he'd be here, wouldn't he?" he asked sadly as he put on his coat and buttoned it. "No, I just want to be alone right now. Do some thinking and relax before the trials start on the new project for the navy. That's going to take up a lot of my time in the next few months so now's as good a time as I'm going to have to get away for a bit. I checked the weather and it looks like a good weekend for a little sail. A little iffy for Sunday though. There's a storm system coming up from the south, but I have my radar and radio so I'll keep watch on the storm's progress."

"Are you sure? Sharkey's around, I could…"

"Angie, really! Don't worry! I'm a big boy," he laughed giving her a little wink.

"I'll call down and have _The Folly_ readied," she said reaching for the phone.

"Already did that. She's being readied now and someone is out shopping to restock my galley."

"Well, haven't you been busy?" she asked with a little smile as she leaned back in her chair.

"Yes, I have. Not on what I should be working on," he lamented, holding his full briefcase up. "But I'll remedy that tonight or tomorrow while I laze about on the deck in some secluded cove."

"I'm kind of jealous," she smirked.

"I hereby give you permission to leave work early today. No reason why someone can't cover the phones for you, is there? Since I won't be here…why should you?" he said with a shrug.

"Yes sir."

"Oh, contact Chip for me and let him know what I told you. He should be back in his office shortly. Also, let him know I left word for Mr. O'Brien to move _Seaview_ to the underground sub pen for safety if this storm is as bad as they say."

"You will be back before it hits though. Right?" Angie asked in a stern tone.

Turning, Nelson smiled his most reassuring smile. "Of course! But if I hit Catalina and decide to ride the storm out there, I wanted Bobby to make sure _Seaview_ was safe. Not that I needed to but no sense in taking chances with my, expensive toy," he joked as he headed for the door

"What should I tell Lee if he calls?"

Nelson stopped in his tracks and turned back, Angie wincing at the look of unhappiness that flitted briefly over her boss's face.

" _If_ he were to ask, tell him what I just told you. I'll be back Sunday. Now close up shop early today. Get out there and enjoy this lovely weather."

"Yes sir," she answered quietly as she watched him walk out, a feeling of foreboding filling her.

Although she was privy to a lot of the things that occurred on _Seaview_ during her missions, there were some things she wasn't. Something had happened on the last cruise, something her boss was having a hard time dealing with. Nelson had returned subdued, distracted, as if carrying a heavy burden he found hard to bear. Chip had told her of the death of one of the crew and injuries to others during the cruise, but not the circumstances. She supposed that could be the reason for his melancholy.

On a few occasions since they had returned from their mission, she'd seen him drift away, lost in thoughts that were not happy ones and she was at a loss how to help. That coupled with the fact he and Lee had yet to reconcile over the argument they'd had three days ago was worrisome to Nelson's secretary. To her knowledge, Lee hadn't been seen anywhere near NIMR and Angie was beginning to think maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would carry through on his threat to quit: an action she knew would be like a stake in the heart of her boss.

~O~

Nelson walked down the sidewalk to his car, got inside and leaned his head back against the headrest. Closing his eyes, he replayed the argument he and Lee had had and cringed at the words they'd thrown at each other. The two had always managed to work out their differences but this time it seemed it was going to be harder than ever. However, if Lee refused to talk to him, the job became impossible. He knew what the missions Lee went on meant to the young man but Harry knew personally what the cost was. Each and every mission took a toll, mentally as well as physically, and some day it was going to be too much. He desperately wanted to keep Lee from finding out what that price was, something he fervently wished someone had done for him.

Sighing, he started the car and headed for his house, planning on packing a few things and readying for a weekend out on the water, hopefully away from the thoughts and recriminations that plagued him night and day. A short drive from the Institute brought him to his cliff side home overlooking his beloved ocean. He quickly parked and entered his house, pausing to throw his briefcase on the table by the door. He knew he should take it with him and finish the work he'd left undone, but the thought of seeing more budget requests from all his department heads was more than he wanted to think about right now.

He needed the time away from everything. He needed time to just relax and play sailor, not be a scientist or head of the most respected Marine research institute in the world. He needed the time away from all the worries, more than he'd ever had before, that plagued his mind. He needed time away to find peace and a way to let go of what had happened on the cruise.

Somehow he needed to find a way to relax, to forget, to forgive himself. The stress, the guilt, the pressure of the last few months was beginning to catch up to him and, if he were honest with himself, was more than likely another reason for his argument, and ultimatum, to Lee. He _did_ know about duty and when ONI came calling, he understood why Lee went. He'd done the same thing in the past and still did today. But he didn't have to like it. Nor did he have to stop worrying. Over the years, Lee had become more to him than merely his captain. He'd become a very good, close personal friend **.**

Heading to his bedroom, he took his uniform off and put on some comfortable, almost threadbare, civvies, smiling as if merely taking off his uniform had relieved him of a bit of the stress he felt. Perhaps he should institute a no uniform policy. Smiling he thought that order would probably be misinterpreted in more ways than one and decided it might not be such a good idea after all.

Dressed, he packed a few sets of clothes in a well-worn duffel, grabbed his always ready shaving kit and headed out, pausing to grab the briefcase on the way past. It couldn't hurt to take it along at least.

A short drive took him down his driveway to the main Institute road and then on to the docks. Pulling into a parking spot, he stopped to admire his submarine as she bobbed in the gentle current, the late afternoon light glinting off her gray coat.

Originally she had been berthed below ground in an underwater cavern, safe from prying eyes. But as the years had gone on he'd constructed an above ground sub pen where from his office he could watch her and his crew as they worked. _Seaview_ was still berthed in the cavern at times but increasingly she was where she was now. He always felt a sense of peace and happiness descend on him when he perused his creation which was one of the reasons for the above ground pen. Today, the joy he usually felt was muted by the memory of the argument and the last cruise and the smile slipped from his face. A few days away were definitely in order. Slinging the straps of his duffel over one shoulder, he grabbed his briefcase and got out.

"Admiral!"

He heard the shout and turned, his eyes shaded by an upraised hand. His hope that the voice belonged to Lee was shattered when he saw Chief Francis Sharkey and Seaman Jake Kowalski coming towards him from his sailboat.

"Chief, Ski,"

"I got the call you were going out sailing and me and Ski got everything ready for you," Sharkey said with a big smile,

"That's right, sir!" Kowalski agreed with enthusiasm, happy his commanding officer was taking the time to get away for a bit. He knew the stress Nelson always seemed to be under and suspected the man felt a load of guilt over all that had happened on the last cruise. McDonald's death had been hard for him to accept but knew it must be harder on the man whose orders had caused it.

"Things are all set. Made sure she had plenty of fuel in case you don't find a breeze and checked the electrical systems. Radar, radios and computers are all functioning. I checked all your lines and sails and everything looks good to go," Sharkey continued. "I replaced your tether line. The old one looked a bit frayed. With that storm heading our way, I thought it best."

"That's excellent, Chief. Wouldn't want to fall overboard now would I? Thanks," Nelson said trying to quell the remorse he felt at his actions on the last cruise: actions he would do anything to change.

"I loaded your fridge and freezer with food," Kowalski added. "There are some nice thick steaks all ready in there for you, sir, as well as some cold beer."

"Thanks, Ski. Can't wait to make a nice steak, sit back with a long necked bottle of beer and let the breeze take me where it will," he said slapping Ski on the back as he walked past.

"Uh, admiral…do you know where you're headed?"

"Wherever the wind takes me, Chief," Nelson answered with a slight smile.

"So you're just gonna sail? Not head to any port?" Kowalski asked with a frown.

"That's the plan. The whole point is to get away for a bit: away from people, phones and work. And where better to do that than out there?" Nelson said gesturing to the ocean beyond.

"You sure you don't want some company? I'd be more than happy to go get…"

"Thanks, Chief but I just want to be alone for a bit. Well, just me and a nice gentle breeze. These past few weeks have been a little stressful," he remarked quietly as he did his best to avoid Sharkey's probing gaze. "Some time off before the new project starts is just what I need."

"Yes sir but…well I checked the weather again and that storm system to the south seems to be speeding up. It might get here as early as Sunday afternoon now. It's going to be a humdinger, too."

"Hmm…well, I'll keep an eye on it, Chief. Thanks," Nelson assured as he climbed aboard. "I'll be back before she hits. Don't worry."

"Yes sir," Sharkey answered unhappily as he watched his boss and friend disappear below with his bag and briefcase. He reappeared quickly and the two men cast off his lines and watched him maneuver his boat out into the harbor after he threw them both a quick wave.

"What's with you, Chief?" Ski asked staring at him in concern. "You know the admiral knows what he's doing out on the water. Or anywhere for that matter. Why the worried mother routine?"

"I don't know, Ski. I just got a bad feeling. The admiral's still feeling a load of guilt over that whole gas thing and all that happened during the last cruise. I can't help but think that's what he's trying to get away from."

"Think how he must feel, Chief. I mean, he ordered the dive and McDonald died because of that. Even though none of us blame him, we all understand it was that gas but, it's gotta hurt. Sure he feels guilty. He just needs time to let it go and time to figure out none of us blames him. Not for McDonald or anything else he did or said while he was under the influence of the gas."

"Yeah, I suppose. I tried to tell him we all understood and to not give it another thought but I could see in his eyes, he wasn't gonna let it go. As for him going off all alone, you know yourself if the skipper were here, he'd be blowing a gasket over the admiral going out alone. There are too many people that would like to hurt him or kidnap him. Too many things that could happen to a man sailing alone."

"Well, the skipper ain't here, is he? If he wanted to be here, he'd be here," Ski growled, knowing the two men had argued and was pretty sure he knew about what. Privately, he sided with the admiral on the skipper's covert activities and wished the man was content to simply be _Seaview's_ captain. "Besides, he's off so stop worrying. He can take care of himself."

"Yeah, yeah he can. Let's go check on those repairs those guys made while we were in dry dock," Sharkey said. "It can't hurt to double-check their work."

~O~

The wind in his hair and the sun on his face as he sailed out of the harbor put a smile on Harry's face and he began to relax as he pondered the next few days alone. He'd been tired and irritable ever since they'd returned from the last mission and the argument with Lee had only exacerbated his feelings of frustration, tension and guilt. Sometimes he wished he could just leave all the paperwork and meetings and budgets behind, but then he'd known what he was getting himself into when he'd retired and put into motion his dreams. At least he'd thought he had. The paperwork seemed never ending and the government's incessant demands for his time, effort, and in many cases his money, irked him.

Settling back, Harry steered his boat effortlessly, not really sure where he was headed. All he wanted was the peace and quiet he could only truly get out on the water: the only place he knew of where there were no phones, no people grabbing his arm to 'just talk', and no meetings.

A glint of something on the hills he was passing by, had him shading his eyes to see what was there but could see nothing and, shrugging, he turned back to his boat, smiling as a breeze sprang up speeding him onward.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you are enjoying the story. This chapter is a bit short but I will put another up soon!_

The weekend passed quickly: the promised storm full of fury as predicted.

Chip Morton walked into his office early Monday morning and seated himself at his desk overflowing with charts and schematics, intending to try making sense of some of the scribbles he'd managed to eke out over the weekend on some of the computer upgrades. He'd been working for about an hour when the shrill ringing of the phone had him trying to find the instrument in the piles of papers and charts.

"Yeah… I mean Morton here."

"Answering your own phone now, Chip?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Lee? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," he answered quietly.

"Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how…?"

"I know, Chip. Things are a mess and the admiral's mad as a hornet. I get it."

"Lee, the admiral's not mad so much as hurt I guess and upset. He feels badly about what happened. You know he's under a lot of pressure right now. Hell, after the last mission, we're all on edge, especially him considering what happened."

"I know. After what happened on the last mission and then the ONI assignment I was on I just blew up. I took his demands as censure I guess. I was wrong to jump on him but I just lost it."

"Have you talked this out with him? 'Cause I think he should be the one this is directed at, not me. Even though you did push me as I recall."

"Sorry about that, Chip. I was out of line. In more ways than one. As for the admiral, I tried his office a little while ago but no one answered. I guess it was too early for Angie to be in but I thought for sure the admiral would be. The specs for the navy project need to be completed this week."

"The admiral's not in yet? That's strange. Maybe he's in one of the labs. Are you coming back any time soon?"

"I'm about to start heading back now."

"From?"

"I went down to San Diego for a bit. Met up with a couple buddies. Had a few drinks…talked."

"Did it help?"

Lee was silent for a bit. "Yeah. It did."

"These buddies ONI?"

Another long silence from Lee then, "Yeah they were. They kind of gave me some perspective I guess."

"You know, if you had talked to the admiral like a rational human, he might have understood and not gone off on you. He's been where you've been…where you are. He tried to tell you that. Besides, you know what he went through on that last cruise. The guilt, no matter what he says or how misplaced it is, is still there."

"I know, Chip. I just didn't want to hear it then. Maybe because of all that happened on the last cruise."

"You sound like you blame him."

"No, I don't. What happened wasn't his fault."

"Not sure he feels that way," Chip muttered. "He's still blaming himself for McDonald among other things."

"I guess I didn't see it. I thought everything was all right. I guess I shouldn't have left without making sure he understood no one blamed him. I just...I guess I felt my own load of guilt. I knew something was wrong with him and I didn't do anything. I just followed orders."

"That's what you're trained to do, you know."

"I still should have done things differently."

"Hindsight, my friend. Let it go. What happens now?"

"Now, I'm ready to talk, to apologize and get back to work. If I still have a job that is."

"Come on. You know he didn't take your threat seriously." Looking up, he saw Angie, concern written on her face in his doorway. "Angie? What is it?"

"It's the admiral, Chip. I just got in the office a little while ago and well, he isn't in yet."

"Maybe he's in one of the labs."

"No, he isn't. I've been off checking. He's not here. I called down at the dock and neither is his boat. He's not back from his sail yet despite his telling me he would be back in plenty of time to miss that storm."

"Did you try his radio?" he asked trying to keep the worry from his voice.

"Yes. He isn't answering. I'm worried, Chip."

Turning back to the phone he said, "Lee, I think we've got problems. The admiral went out sailing over the weekend and isn't back yet."

"Did he take anyone with him?"

"No. Angie says he went alone."

"When was he due back?" Lee asked anxiously.

"Yesterday. He told Angie he'd be back before that storm we had yesterday afternoon hit."

Chip heard nothing but silence on the other end for a few seconds and he knew Lee was thinking, trying not to allow his fear to blossom. "Damn," he finally whispered. "I'm on my way."

"Lee, how about I fly FS-1 down there and pick you up? We'll contact the Coast Guard and get them started searching but we can start our own search."

"That's a good idea, Chip. I'll make arrangements for you to dock at the sub base and I'll meet you there."

"I'll be there shortly. I just want to check with Sharkey and see if he knows where the admiral was headed."

"I'll be waiting, Chip. Uh…could you put Angie on?"

"He wants to talk to you," Chip said handing the phone to Angie who was trying not to worry about her boss.

"Lee?"

"Yeah, it's me. Look Angie, he's all right. He probably just had engine or radio problems and stayed some place safe until the storm passed. He'll probably be back before Chip leaves. Try not to imagine the worst."

"I'll try. I didn't want him to go by himself. I told him to take someone but he said he just wanted to be alone."

Lee, feeling guilt fill him, was silent as he knew he was in all likelihood the reason, or at least one of the reasons, he wanted to get away.

"He can take care of himself. You know that. Chip and I will be looking for him shortly. Try not to worry."

"I'll try, Lee," she replied softly before hanging up and turning to Chip who had come to stand by her side.

"You all right?" he asked as he stared at her in concern, knowing how close she felt to Nelson.

"I'm fine. It's just… even if he did want to be alone; it's not like him to not keep in touch. Unless he couldn't."

"Let's not borrow trouble. There's probably a simple reason he hasn't contacted us. While we wait for him to get in touch with us, call the Coast Guard and give them all the information you can. Also give them any possible destinations."

"He didn't tell me where he was going exactly. He did say he might end up at Catalina and ride out the storm there. But he would have contacted us. Maybe he talked to Sharkey about any particular destination," she said frowning before she started out the door.

"Angie? Try not to think the worst. He's a sailor. He knows what he's doing out there."

A brief nod was all the answer she felt she could give as her worry threatened to choke her. Deep down inside she knew something was very wrong.

Chip watched her walk from the room and grabbed his phone, dialing quickly and smiling when he heard the voice on the other end.

"Chief? You're in early. You at the sub pen?"

"Yes sir! I wanted to make sure everything was in order before the admiral gets here. I'm kind of surprised he isn't here already. He wanted to look over the work that was done over the weekend."

"Yeah…uh look…the admiral hasn't come back from his trip yet. I was wondering if you got _The Folly_ ready for him on Friday."

"Yeah, me and Ski got everything ready. I didn't think he should go off alone but he seemed set on it. You said he hasn't come back yet? I didn't even think to check for his boat when I got in. Has he been in contact with anyone?"

"No. Angie was just here and said she's tried calling on his radio but she isn't getting a response."

"Well…maybe he had to run from that storm yesterday. Might have taken out his radio or something," Sharkey reasoned, unable to keep the worry from his tone. "Maybe he rode out the storm some place. Some place safe."

"Yeah, maybe. Ready the Flying Sub while you're down there. I'm going to fly down to San Diego and pick up Captain Crane. Then the two of us are going to start a search for the admiral."

"The Skipper? He's coming back?"

"Yeah. He called this morning right before we found out about the admiral. By the way, did the admiral say anything about where he might be headed?"

"No sir. He said he didn't want to be around people so he was just going to sail, not anchor any place."

"Damn. Which way did he head when he left the harbor **?** Did you see?"

"Yeah, he headed south."

"South. That's where I'm headed as soon as I check in with Angie. I'll be down in a few minutes, Chief. Have FS-1 ready."

"Aye sir."

Chip rubbed his hands over his face in agitation. The past few weeks had been hard on everyone and now to know the admiral was missing? What else was going to go wrong? Smacking his hands on his desk he rose, grabbed his jacket and headed down the hall to the admiral's office where he found Angie on the phone.

Seeing him standing there she ended the call and stood up. "That was the Coast Guard. They're starting a search now. I didn't know where to tell them to look for him but Sharkey just called and said he headed south so that gives them a starting point I guess."

"Good. Did you tell them about Catalina?"

"I did. They're checking all the marinas on the off shore islands including Catalina just in case he's berthed there some place. They said they've had a few distress calls from other boats but nothing from the admiral."

"There's probably a very good reason that he hasn't called, Angie. We'll probably fly right over him and see him standing on the deck with his hands on his hips wondering what the hell we're doing," he said with a halfhearted smile.

Angie smiled, knowing Chip was trying to keep her from full-blown panic. She knew all the innocuous reasons the admiral might have for not coming back when he said he would. She also knew the more sinister ones: the ones she was trying not to think of.

"I should get moving. Sharkey should have FS-1 ready by now. I'll fly down and pick up Lee then we'll do some searching of our own." Walking to her, he put his hands on her shoulders and with a finger under her chin, gently tilted her head up. "Stop worrying. He's fine."

She nodded briefly and smiled back but Chip knew she wasn't buying it. Even _he_ wasn't buying it. Something had happened to the admiral. But what?

"I should get going," he said giving her shoulders a brief squeeze before turning for the door.

"Chip?"

He turned at the small voice.

"Find him?"

"I will, Angie. Lee and I will do everything we can to find him."

With a nod, Chip left quickly, anxious to begin his search.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lee Crane paced anxiously about the hotel room he'd rented a few days ago as he waited for Chip to pick him up. Angry, hurt and wanting nothing more than to get lost in a bottle of booze, he'd chosen the first hotel he'd come to, paid for a week and headed to the small oceanfront room. Without even looking out on the beautiful view outside his room, he'd collapsed in a heap on his bed and slept for almost 24 hours straight. The exhaustion of the mission and all that had transpired with Nelson…his best friend…had finally caught up to him.

When he'd finally awakened, his eyes gritty and bloodshot, the memory of his argument…hell, his fight…with the admiral came back to him and he'd felt guilt flow through him at the things he'd said to the man. He knew the argument and its intensity had been heard by at least two other people. Chip had made sure he knew that when he'd caught up to him outside the Administration Building and before he could escape. He fervently prayed that not everything they'd said had been overheard.

The memory of his words to Nelson came back to haunt him again and he groaned. Opening the sliding door to his room, he stepped out onto the small balcony and gazed down at the beach that was spotted here and there with joggers or people strolling, some hand in hand, down the beach. On the waves beyond, he saw surfers, wet suits glistening in the early morning sun, catching their first waves of the day.

Leaning on the balcony's railing, he tore his gaze from the vacationers enjoying their morning and thought about Nelson. Where had he gone and why hadn't he returned yet? He knew there were several possible reasons but the only ones he was thinking of involved ominous scenarios. Someone had taken him, his boat had sunk, he…Lee shook himself and smacked his hand on the balcony railing. There was nothing to be gained by imagining the worst. Nelson was the best. He was the best sailor, scientist, inventor…friend. He was fine. He had to be.

Glancing at his watch, he realized he'd spent way too long indulging in worst case scenarios and he went back inside to finish packing his meager belongings. Wanting to escape as quickly as possible, he'd fled with the clothes he'd been wearing and had taken little up the small duffel bag, he perused the room quickly for any missed items and left, his heart in his throat as he allowed his worry for the admiral to settle inside him fully.

~O~

Almost as soon as the Flying Sub edged up against the pier at the sub base in San Diego, the tall, lanky form of Lee Crane, a blue duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, quickly appeared, entered the sub and seated himself in the co-pilot's seat quickly.

"Any word?" he asked breathlessly.

"None. The Coast Guard checked all of the off shore marinas and came up with nothing. No evidence the admiral was there or is there now. They've gone out on a couple distress calls from boats after that storm but they haven't received one from the admiral. Sharkey said he thought the admiral was headed south when he left so I thought we'd do a search from here. I radioed the Coast Guard where we were headed and they sent us a search grid. It's programmed into the computer."

"Good. Let's get going," Lee ordered in a carefully controlled voice as he buckled himself in. The feeling of responsibility for what had happened filled him and he struggled to control his thoughts. If he hadn't gone off on the admiral and had tried to listen to him, knowing the pressure he was under, this wouldn't have happened. Too much had taken place, during the last cruise and on the mission he'd undertaken right after the admiral's return to normalcy in Sick Bay. Way too much.

In retrospect, the admiral had been right when he'd said it wasn't a good time to be gone. The last cruise had taken a toll on everyone, the admiral mostly, and with the navy pressuring the admiral to step up the production times on his new sonar project, he should have been there to help, not off on another ONI mission, especially not right after all that had happened during that last blasted cruise.

If he were honest with himself, he'd begun to really hate the times away from _Seaview_. Each mission was harder and harder for him to recover from both physically and mentally. But he hadn't been able to admit that to the admiral. Instead, he'd heard the admiral questioning where his loyalties were, something he thought the admiral should know, and had ripped into him which only caused the admiral to blow up. In retrospect, it wasn't a surprise. The demands on Nelson were excessive, as was the pressure, and he'd acted in the only way he felt open to him.

Sitting back in his seat as Chip flew the small craft over the open ocean; Lee watched the water below pass by quickly, hoping for some sign. If only he hadn't left things the way he had. He'd never really had a chance to talk over in depth what had happened during the cruise. Putting himself in the admiral's shoes, he cringed as he thought of how he would feel if he had been the one that had been affected by the gas, knowing his orders had caused the death of one of his men. In retrospect, he couldn't help but feel he should have taken the time to make sure the admiral knew with absolute certainty that he didn't blame him for what had happened. Instead, he'd been ordered on another mission, a mission he probably shouldn't have undertaken, without taking the time to check in with Nelson. What if something _had_ happened to the admiral? How was he going to live with the knowledge he quite possibly could have prevented it or even been there with him if he'd made a different choice?

"Lee? It's not your fault," Chip said softly as he turned his gaze from the water below to his friend, his feelings written plainly on his face.

"It feels like it is, Chip. I remember the look on his face when I said I quit. There was such pain, just for a split-second, then he quickly covered it up with that red-faced angry look that used to scare the heck out of me at the Academy."

"He did have a way of getting his point across with a simple glare, didn't he? It used to scare the shit out of me."

"I saw the same look the other day. I pushed him too far."

"Funny. I think he said the same thing."

"What?"

"I talked to Angie after our little discussion after you stormed out. She went into his office and found him staring out the window watching us. He told her he'd gone too far and maybe this was the one time you wouldn't come back for more."

Lee turned his eyes from Chip's to the ocean below. "I just wish there were some way to take it back. Some way to not say what I said."

"Look, he feels the same. When we find him, you both can apologize and get back to the way things should be."

" _If_ we find him," Lee replied so softly Chip almost didn't hear him.

"We'll find him. The admiral's a sailor, Lee. He knows what he's doing out there. No storm's gonna take him out."

"Maybe not a storm but something more human might."

"You thinking someone took him?" Chip asked, a hard edge to his voice as he thought over the possibilities.

"I don't know what to think. I really don't."

With nothing more to say, the two _Seaview_ officers returned their gazes to the gray ocean below, searching for their missing commanding officer in silence, both unable to quell the fear that rose in them when their hope began to fade. Long hours focused on their search ended when the light began to grow faint, the sea darkening to an inky blackness.

"We should head back, Lee. We can't see anything. We'll get back to it tomorrow morning."

A simple nod was all Lee could muster. Another night without knowing. Another night for the admiral out on the vast ocean. Alone.

~O~

Chip landed the Flying Sub by the surface dock at NIMR and shutdown all the systems. Unbuckling, the two slowly climbed to the dock in silence, neither officer feeling much like talking

"Skipper! Welcome back, Sir! Any word on the admiral?"

Lee looked up to see Lt. Bobby O'Brien coming down the pier towards them, Sharkey and Kowalski on his heels. Several of the crew waited behind them, hopeful looks in all their eyes.

"No, Bobby. There's no word," Crane answered simply as he slung his duffel over his shoulder and walked with slow steps to the waiting crew.

When they reached the group who stared at them in uneasiness, they stopped. Afraid he would see condemnation written on the men's faces, he was unable to look his men in the eyes, and simply waited for Chip to speak.

"We searched the area the Coast Guard assigned us and found nothing. Search planes are out but haven't spotted anything. Yet. We'll go back out tomorrow morning and keep searching. The navy is sending out planes, also. They're searching through the night with night vision. Hopefully, they'll find something."

Silence met the exec's words as the men, the admiral's handpicked crew, worried about what might have happened to their commanding officer.

"Sir, some of the crew wants to help in the search," Bobby said softly. "We thought we might take some boats and head out and look for him on our own. Also, there are a few of us that fly that want to be up there searching also."

"I think that would be a good idea, Bobby. I'll have Miss Wood contact the Coast Guard and have them give you search areas. She'll be in touch early tomorrow."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir," Bobby answered, watching in silence as the two officers walked away, anxiety and worry dragging their steps.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 _Thanks for your reviews! I can't send messages to some of you, so I want to thank mila, mta, SeaSoul, nans, gemhornet, beth r and anyone I may have missed for your reviews. They are greatly appreciated._

Lee Crane opened the door to his apartment on the Institute grounds, flipped on the light and stared in dismay at the mess he'd left behind. After his blow up with the admiral he'd come here, wreathed in anger, packed a few things in his duffel and left, leaving behind piles of unwashed laundry, papers and a few pizza boxes he hoped were empty.

Throwing his duffel into the mess that covered his floor, he threw himself into a nearby chair. Sitting with his head in his hands, he allowed guilt to swell within him as he heard again and again his harsh words to the man he considered his best friend…his brother in all but blood.

" _Don't ask me to choose, Admiral. You may not like the choice I make. In fact, I guarantee you won't. But if you want me to choose now…I…I choose duty to my country over Seaview. And you. And if that isn't good enough for you, then to hell with you and the Institute!"_

He groaned as the words played over and over in his mind. "To hell with you? How could I have said such a horrible thing?"

He hadn't meant it. He hadn't meant to say it and he hadn't meant to think it. But the pressure, the stress and the perceived criticism from Nelson had sent him over the edge. It wasn't the first time the two had had words over his ONI activities. He knew how the admiral felt about it. Privately, he understood all too well that the man was right. Each mission took a little bit more out of him. Each mission left a bit of him behind in whatever place he'd found himself in. Quite frankly he was tired of being asked to do things that, even though done to protect his country, made his skin crawl at times. The lies, the deceit, the killing and pain were rapidly becoming too much and he wanted desperately to never have to go off again. He knew the admiral understood. He knew he'd faced the same things he had as an agent. Deep down he knew the man had only been trying to protect him. And only now when it might be too late did he truly understand.

Slumping back in his chair, he laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Why did I say what I said? Why didn't I tell you how much I agreed with you? Why did I say it? Why?!"

Frustrated, he rose and stalked to the windows that overlooked the surface sub pen and the Institute's Administration building, remembering the scene in the admiral's office a few minutes before when he and Chip had entered to find Angie still at her desk, waiting, hope written on her face that they had something good to tell her. He cringed when he remembered the look on her face when they told her they'd found no sign of the admiral. All her hope had faded away in a split second leaving behind worry and a sheen of tears for the man she considered a good friend. She'd given him no harsh words on his outburst or on his disappearance, only a sympathetic look and a big hug as she walked out the door, promising to be back before dawn.

He stared hard at the building, praying he saw a sign that the admiral had returned but a quick look to the sub pen and the pier _The Folly_ should be docked at showed no sign of the admiral's boat and he felt himself begin to lose the little bit of hope he'd managed to hold onto, the words he'd said playing out in his head once more.

"I can't take them back, Admiral. Not unless you come back. You _have_ to come back. You _have_ to be all right. You _have_ to know I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't."

Lowering his head, he turned away as he felt something akin to desperation fill him. Staring at the mess behind him for a brief moment, he walked slowly through the room, threw himself on the couch and tried hard to find a respite from the words that replayed over and over in his head.

Sleep found him quickly, more quickly than he thought possible, and was surprised by the sound of knocking on his door. The room was still cast in deep shadows, but he managed to stumble his way to the door, opening it quickly to find Chip Morton on the other side, a bag in one hand and two cups of steaming coffee in the other.

"Chip? What is it? Is it the admiral? Have they found him?" he asked, hope rising in him as he tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

"No, no they haven't. It's 0500. We wanted to get an early start on the search. I thought you'd be ready by now."

"Damn. It's morning already? I guess I fell asleep. I'm sorry. I'll be ready in a few minutes," he called as he hurried to grab a quick shower and dressed quickly.

Buttoning his shirt as he walked, he came into the living room to find Chip sitting on the edge of the sofa, a bagel in one hand and a coffee in the other. "There's a bagel and coffee for you, too. I thought we should eat on the run. I got you the extra large coffee. I also have a thermos of the stuff in my truck for the day. We can use the caffeine."

"Thanks, Chip. I didn't think I would sleep but I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Not a problem. It's not light yet."

"Let's get moving," Lee said as he grabbed the bag with the bagel in it and the coffee. "We can check in with Angie and see if the Coast Guard or navy found anything overnight."

The two drove quickly to the Administration building and entered the admiral's outer office where they found Angie Wood, slightly rumpled and trying to hide her red-rimmed eyes, sitting at her desk, a large cup of coffee by her hand.

"Angie? Any word?" Lee asked as he walked quickly to her side.

"No. If there had been word I would have called you," she replied sharply, then closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I just didn't sleep last night. I kept thinking about him being out there. Alone…hurt."

"It's all right," Chip soothed as he came to sit on the edge of her desk. "We're all worried."

Angie reached under some files that were scattered on her usually neat desk and pulled a large map out. "I contacted the Coast Guard a few minutes ago. They searched this area last night," she said pointing to a rather small section. "Navy planes checked here. Nothing was spotted."

"Maybe the admiral didn't continue south," Lee said as he stared in dismay at the vast area that was still unsearched. "Are you sure all marinas have been contacted?"

"I confirmed that with the Coast Guard a few minutes ago. All the marinas along the southern California coast and the off shore islands were contacted. The admiral didn't dock anywhere. At least not at any marina. He could have simply dropped his anchor anywhere though."

"Then he either found a safe anchorage to ride the storm out or he rode it out at sea. Probably took his radio out so he can't contact us," Chip replied with a look that said he wasn't buying it any more than he thought they would. "Did Bobby contact you?"

"Yes. The Coast Guard gave them an area to check closer to Los Angeles. Just in case he went north. Your search grids for the day are here," she answered, pointing to an area close to where they had been yesterday. "Sharkey has FS-1 all ready and the coordinates loaded into the computer."

"Good. Well, we should get moving. It'll be light in a few minutes. We'll be in contact. Try not to worry?" Chip urged as he watched Angie lower her head wearily into her hands.

"I don't think that's going to happen," she sighed. "We all know something's wrong."

"We'll find him, Angie," Lee assured with a halfhearted smile as he folded up the map and headed out the door, Chip on his heels.

~O~

The two men searched their assigned area, despondent when once again they turned up nothing. They were just about to request another grid when they heard a call come in from the Coast Guard.

"Coast Guard cutter _Edisto_ to NIMR Flying Sub. Do you copy?"

"This is Crane. We copy," Lee answered his heart in his throat as he hoped they were calling with good news.

"Lee? It's Bob Miller. We have news of Admiral Nelson. Well, news of _The Folly_ at least."

" _The Folly_? What about Admiral Nelson?"

"We found his boat drifting southwest of San Diego. Mast was broken, sails ripped. But there's no one onboard."

"What?! What do you mean there's no one onboard? There has to be!"

"Nelson's not here, Lee. There's food and water in the galley, radio and radar are working fine but he's not here. I'm sending you the coordinates now. Fly down here as quickly as you can. Maybe you can spot something we haven't."

Lee was silent, his brain processing the information for a minute before inputting the coordinates into the computer. "We're only a few minutes from there, Bob. See you in a few," Lee replied, his jaw clenched tight.

"Lee, there are more explanations for him not being onboard than the ones you're thinking of," Chip murmured as he watched Crane closely.

"Really? Tell me one, Chip."

"He could have anchored at any one of the uninhabited islands off the coast, went ashore and the storm broke his anchor chain for one. Or he could have moored at some marina and they either lost his info or recorded it incorrectly and someone stole his boat. We're not going to know anything until we get there."

"Maybe. And maybe we'll never know for sure what happened."

~O~

A few minutes of flying and Lee spotted the large Coast Guard cutter from the air, the admiral's sailboat tied up snugly by her side. They landed on the water and edged closer to _The Folly_ , climbed out the top hatch and tied up to the admiral's boat. Climbing on board, they were met by a Coast Guard officer.

"Lee? Good to see you again," the officer said crisply as he shook Crane's hand.

"Good to see you too, Bob. This is Chip Morton, Exec of _Seaview_. Chip, Captain Bob Miller, USCGS."

Chip nodded briefly. "What have you found?"

"Not much. Nelson was on board, that much we know. There are clothes and dirty dishes down in the living area. However, he's not here now."

"What about his anchor?"

"It's intact and still attached to the chain. The boat didn't just drift away from any place if that's what you were thinking."

"Unless he didn't have time to drop it," Chip replied.

Throwing him a quick glance, he nodded. "It's a possibility I suppose but I want you to come look at something."

Gesturing for the two men to follow him, he reached down he picked up the frayed end of a tether that was attached to the jacklines of Nelson's 40 foot boat and showed it to the two _Seaview_ officers.

"His harness tether," Lee muttered as he took the tether in his hand and fingered the frayed ends.

"Looks like he may have gone overboard, Lee. His harness is gone, too."

Continuing to finger the ragged ends, Crane shook his head, trying not to believe what the evidence was telling him. He looked about the deck and shook his head. "I…he can't be gone. What about life preservers?"

"There are four onboard. All stowed away. He may have been wearing one when he went over."

" _If_ he went overboard," Lee muttered, shaking his head in frustration. "Are you still searching?"

"We _are_ still searching. Now that we're looking for a man in the water, it's going to be that much more difficult to spot. However, if he went overboard in that storm, there's not much chance he's alive. You know that," he said warily.

"No, I _don't_ know that!" Lee answered harshly as he threw the tether down. "This is Admiral Harriman Nelson we're talking about! If there's a way, he'd find it. I'm not ready to give up and call him dead."

"Neither am I," Chip agreed resolutely. "He's been lost at sea before, called dead and shown up alive. Why should this be any different?"

"We'll keep looking of course but there's another storm headed this way that's going to be just as bad as Sunday's. It's forecast to hit tomorrow afternoon. If that one hits before we find him, we'll have to call the search off and…"

"And?" Lee asked quietly when the coast guard officer hesitated, knowing what he was about to say.

"We'll have to assume he's dead," Miller answered softly, knowing the words would cut like a knife. "We're continuing to search. We've calculated the drift pattern and currents and we'll be looking. _The Folly_ will be taken back to San Diego for the night. Do you want to leave it there or have it brought back to the Institute?"

Lee was silent for a bit as he stared out to sea, knowing the chances of the admiral being alive were slim and growing slimmer by the minute. The storm had been an extremely powerful one with wave heights of fifteen to twenty feet or more. For a person to have survived that…

"Lee?" he heard Chip call him and he turned to him. "Do you want someone to bring the admiral's boat back to the Institute?"

"Uh…yeah. We'll get Kowalski and Riley to motor it up. Have Patterson drive them down."

"Aye sir. I'll call them now," he replied softly as he disappeared down the companionway to the radio below deck.

Lee heard him calling the Institute and knew Chip was going to have to be the one to tell Angie what they'd found. He didn't envy him that. Walking about the debris-strewn deck, he searched for something, anything, to give him the slightest glimmer of hope, something to fill the hole of despair and guilt that filled him.

"I'm sorry, Lee. I know how close you and Nelson were…are. I wish there was something more I could do."

Shaking his head, he turned to Miller. "This just doesn't make sense, Bob. The admiral knew a storm was coming. He told his secretary and the men that readied the boat he'd be back well before the storm hit. Why didn't he?" he asked as he turned confused, pain-filled eyes to the man before him.

"People make mistakes. You know that. Happens all the time. They think they can outrun a storm or whatever. They find out too late they're wrong."

"No. Not Admiral Nelson. He wouldn't. He's too much of a sailor to let that happen," he answered stubbornly. But a small part of him wondered if their argument had caused Nelson to let his guard down concerning the storm.

"I don't know what to tell you. We may never know what happened. Look, I need to get back to the search. I'll leave a few men onboard to take _The Folly_ to San Diego unless you want to sail her down?"

"No…no, we'll continue searching."

~O~

The search continued through the remainder of the day, this time for a man in the water with the same results: nothing. When night closed in, Lee and Chip flew back to the Institute despondent, fear filling them that there had been no word.

Landing beside _Seaview_ , the two men got out, exhaustion from the long hours spent searching the ocean filling them.

For a long moment Lee stood staring at _Seaview_. Would he ever be able to go aboard her again if the admiral was dead? How could he face the men? They had to know of the argument the two had had. Would they blame him? Hell, they should blame him! It was his fault. If only…

"Lee? You all right?" Chip asked placing a soft hand on his friend's shoulder.

"No, Chip. I'm not all right. I don't know if I'll ever be all right again. Even if we find him and he's fine, I'll never be able to look him in the eye again."

"That's not what he'd want. _This_ isn't what he'd want," Chip chastised, gesturing to Crane. "You think he'd want you to stand there feeling sorry for yourself? Feeling like you were responsible? Come on. You know him better than that."

"Right now, I don't know what I know. I'll see you tomorrow, Chip," he murmured as he turned away, knowing Chip's eyes were on him the whole way and not caring.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next day was the same as the others; the two flew their assigned search area and came away with the same results. The little hope the two men had began to dissipate as each hour faded away. They knew the coming storm was approaching as wave heights begin to increase and they saw the darkening clouds crowd the horizon, lightning flashing sporadically. Soon the storm would be upon them. Soon there would be no more reason to search.

"Lee?"

Crane heard the hesitant voice and tried hard not to respond.

"Lee, the Coast Guard's called off the search. We have to go back," Chip said as he felt the Flying Sub buffeted by the increasing winds, lightning flashing brightly outside the small craft.

"You know what it means if we do," Lee murmured as he continued to search the endless ocean for Nelson.

Chip was silent for a moment, struggling to maintain control. "Yeah, I do," he answered quietly, his voice breaking slightly. "But, do you think he'd want us to stay out here searching if it was as dangerous as it is?"

His eyes fixed on the vast ocean below, Lee remained silent as he searched, hoping, praying he saw the admiral in the deepening waves. "Just one more square mile, one more pass, just one more."

Knowing there was no reply he could possibly make, Chip remained silent. He heard the pain in Lee's voice and knew he was consumed by guilt.

But one more square mile yielded the same results. A flash of lightning and a loud crack caused both men to look up from the ocean to their instruments. "We've been hit, Lee."

"I know. But we're all right," he assured as he checked the systems. "We can make one more…"

"Lee, we have to go back. Now. Before we can't and they have to come look for us. Someone has to be around to take care of the Institute. You know I'm right."

"I…I can't, Chip. I just can't let him go! It's my fault! I never should have said what I said."

"Do you really think deep down you're responsible? That a few words caused this? Do you really think deep down that he believed you when you said you quit? 'Cause he didn't."

"How do you know that?" Lee asked in disbelief.

"I know that because I know him. And you. You two have a bond. Just as you and I do. Like brothers. A few words spoken in anger can't break that."

"You didn't see his face," Lee said in anguish.

"Didn't have to. It wouldn't have mattered. And as for you thinking you drove him out here because he was sure your relationship was somehow damaged, that's bull. You know the pressure he's been under. Everyone wants something from him…the navy, the government, contractors, scientists at the Institute…you know what I mean. Getting out on his boat where no one could get to him was his way of not punching a hole in the wall or someone's face. He knew you'd eventually calm down and come back. You'd talk. He'd talk and everything would be as it was."

"If we give up the search, that's never going to happen, Chip," he muttered in grief as he turned bright eyes to Chip's. "I'll never be able to say I'm sorry."

"I know, buddy. I know," Chip answered quietly.

Lee clenched his jaw and continued to search the angry ocean for his friend. Another flash of lightning lit the sky around them pummeling the small craft.

"Lee, we need to face it. As much as I hate to say it, he's gone. It's been four days and two storms. He couldn't have survived."

"I can't! I can't just let it go. I can't let _him_ go. To not even have a body to bury? It's too hard. I owe him too much."

"Look Lee, he's a sailor. He loved the sea and everything in it and about it. Don't you think its kind of fitting somehow that we can't find his body? He's where he'd want to be I think. We need to let him go," he finished, his voice soft and trembling at the enormity of what he was saying.

Struggling with everything he had for control, he turned from Chip's probing gaze to the angry sea below him. He knew what Chip said was true but letting go of Nelson was not something he thought he was going to be able to do. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, seeing his grief mirrored in Chip's face. He lowered his head and whispered, "Take us home, Chip."

Squeezing his shoulder briefly, Chip took the controls and guided them home through the pounding rain and wicked winds, landing the craft and docking her inside _Seaview._

Powering down the engines, the two men sat for the longest time, unable to face climbing up to what was probably a semi-darkened empty Control Room: empty in so many ways.

Finally, Lee undid his seat belt, rose and slowly climbed the ladder to the room above, surprised to find it lit brightly. O'Brien, Sharkey, Kowalski, Patterson and a few other men stood staring in apprehension at the two officers that climbed the ladder and stared back at them

Bobby O'Brien stepped forward, hope written on his face. "Any sign?"

"No, Bobby. None. The search has been called off. It's over," Crane replied softly.

"The search is over? Not just suspended?" Kowalski asked in astonishment, sadness warring with shock on his face.

"No. It's been called off. They feel the admiral couldn't have survived being in the water in not one but two storms."

Silence met Crane's words as the men struggled to understand what he was saying.

"So what happens now, Skipper?" Sharkey asked slowly, knowing the answer but praying he was wrong.

"He'll be declared dead, Chief," Lee answered quietly as he moved slowly through the room, pausing when he got to the plotting table and saw a piece of paper with one of the admiral's doodles on it. Smiling slightly he took it in his hand and stared down at it, a deep ache filling him at what he knew was possibly the last thing he would ever have of the man. Taking it, he walked by the men that lined the room and climbed the ladder to the sail above, pausing there for a minute as he stared down at the admiral's boat bobbing in the slight current, its mast broken and lying on the deck. He jumped to the pier and walked to the damaged craft, staring at the destruction the storm had caused. A part of him felt an urge to go onboard but he couldn't convince his legs to take him there. To see what was left of the boat or to see reminders of the admiral was more than he thought he could bear to deal with right now and he turned away, his heart breaking.

Chip Morton and Bobby O'Brien watched as Lee walked up the long road towards the Institute.

"Should we go after him?" Bobby asked quietly.

"I'll give him some time to walk. He needs to deal with what's going to happen. He needs time to deal with what _has_ happened."

"That storm should be here shortly," Bobby said as a strong gust of wind buffeted them, thunder echoing over the ocean. "Should we move _Seaview_ to the underground dock for safety like we did for the last storm?"

"If this storm is as bad as the last, she'll need the protection. See to it for me will you, Bobby?"

"Aye sir. I had some of the crew standing by but we didn't want to take her down until you both got back."

"Thanks. We need to talk to Angie. Do you know if she's still here?"

"She said she would stay until she talked to one or both of you tonight. If it helps, I think she knows."

"I still need to talk to her."

"Don't worry about anything, sir. I'll move _Seaview_ to safety,"

"Thanks, Bobby. I'll pick the skipper up on my way passed him. Give him a little time alone."

"Uh, Mr. Morton?"

"What is it, Bobby?" he asked in a tired, defeated voice.

"Is…well, is there any chance at all he's not…that he's alive?"

Chip closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "I don't know, Bobby. I want to believe there's a chance, that he's alive somewhere, but I don't see how," he replied as he watched the storm approach and felt the wind they'd fought the whole way back begin to pick up.

"Aye sir," Bobby murmured, grief filling him at the loss of a man he respected more than anyone he'd ever known.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lee Crane walked up the long drive towards the Institute, knowing Angie Wood in all likelihood waited for some word on her boss in the office he had no desire to go to. What was he going to say to her? He was the cause of the admiral's death. He should have been with the admiral. He _would_ have been with him if they hadn't argued. And when the admiral went overboard, he would have been there to bring him back aboard. In his mind there was no doubt.

He heard the sound of a truck engine behind him and knew Chip was following him. He stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Want a lift?" he asked simply.

With a brief nod, Lee walked to the other side of the truck, climbed in and leaned his head back against the headrest.

The drive to the Administration building took way too little time and the two men were quickly parked outside the main building. From here they could see the lights burning in the office at the top: the admiral's office.

"Guess one of us should go talk to Angie. I can talk to her alone if you want," Chip said when Lee made no move to get out.

"Thanks but we should both talk to her," he answered, wishing he could find a way to not go in but failing. He owed it to Angie. He owed it to the admiral.

The men climbed slowly from the truck and went into the building, getting to the admiral's office way too fast and entering. Angie Wood stood, arms wrapped about herself, staring out the large windows behind her desk. The slight movement of her head told them she knew they were there.

"He's not coming back, is he?" she whispered in a wavering, small voice.

Chip glanced to Lee who stood unmoving, his head lowered and his eyes closed and walked to her. "They've called off the search. They don't think he could have survived the first storm let alone this one," he answered as he wrapped an arm about her and stood watching the storm lash the beach below. He felt her shoulders shaking and pulled her closer as she let go of the tears she'd tried to brush away each day there was no word on Nelson.

Turning slightly, she watched Lee walk slowly into the admiral's office and disappear into the Stygian darkness, then let herself be pulled into Chip's embrace, sharing the grief they felt for the man that had created, built and conceived so much. The man they considered a close friend.

~O~

Standing by the window in the admiral's office, Lee stood with his arms crossed, watching the storm take out its fury on the beach below, winds whipping the sand and waves frothing angrily on the shore. The name Pacific meant peaceful yet it was far from a peaceful sea now. With a sigh, he stared out to sea, his heart filled with remorse and an abject sadness. He was out there. Somewhere far out to sea, was the body of Admiral Harriman Nelson. But he'd never see him, talk to him or laugh with him ever again and his heart broke as he imagined his friend's last few minutes of life, wondering if he'd suffered. Wondering if the admiral had recalled the last words they'd spoken to each other and wished, as he did, for another chance.

He felt someone come into the room, almost silently cross it and wrap him in soft arms, laying their head on his back.

"I can't believe he's not coming back this time," Angie whispered, her voice breaking. "He's really gone?"

"I don't know, Angie," he answered quietly as he patted the hand draped across his chest. "He doesn't feel gone to me. I know it doesn't make sense but…"

"I know what you mean," she agreed coming to stand by his side and laying her head on his shoulder. "He has…had…such a presence, vitality, energy. If all that was all suddenly gone, wouldn't we feel it? Notice it wasn't there any more?"

"I don't know," Lee whispered brokenly. "I just…I don't know."

The two stood wrapped in each others arms as they watched the storm rage, feeling in some way they couldn't look away. It was as if, by standing, watching, they were sharing the storm with the man that was out there lost in it…presumably dead.

"Lee?" Angie called in a small voice after a few minutes had passed.

"Yeah?"

"What…what do you think it's like to…to die that way?"

Lee closed his eyes as he imagined, as he saw in his mind's eye, the admiral going over the boat's railing into a churning, raging sea, his body buffeted by the waves as he struggled to keep his head above them and failing. He saw him begin to sink, his wild gyrations slowing until they finally ceased and he sank into the inky, welcoming arms of the black heart of the ocean.

"I…I don't know," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I don't think it hurts. Just a bit of a struggle. Then…nothing."

"But he's so alone out there. We can't say good-bye," Angie whispered, pausing to wipe away the tears that tracked down her face.

"I know, Angie. I know. But, Chip said something to me in the Flying Sub when he was trying to get me to come back in. The admiral is where he loved being. He's in his beloved ocean. We have to try to take comfort in that somehow."

"I'll try. But I don't think I'm going to be able to."

"I know, Angie. I understand that,"

"I should go. Tomorrow's going to be a day from hell once the news about the admiral gets out," Angie said as she pulled away from Lee's embrace, wiping almost angrily at her tear-stained eyes, and turned to look at him, his eyes never leaving the churning ocean. "Will you be all right?"

"I don't think I'll ever be all right again, Angie," he whispered brokenly, a tear slipping from his eye and running down his stubbled face. "He's dead because of me."

"You're wrong about that," she snapped angrily. "I don't know what happened out there but he isn't dead because of you!"

"I keep seeing his face, Angie. You don't know how much I hurt him."

"Hurt him? By throwing a few words at him? Come on, Lee. He's stronger than that. You know he knew you didn't mean it. Stop playing the martyr."

Lee remained silent and finally Angie gave up waiting for an answer. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The next day brought brilliant blue skies and a sweet clean smell to the air. Evidence of the storm's wrath was unmistakable on the beach and on the grounds of the Institute, a fact that went unnoticed by most. News that the search for Admiral Nelson had been suspended washed over the campus of the Institute, as well as across the country, like a tidal wave as the knowledge that it was only a matter of time until the four-star admiral, creator of the _Seaview_ and the founder of NIMR, would be declared dead.

Dawn had barely appeared before newspapers began to announce the suspension of the search for Admiral Harriman Nelson, some almost gleefully declaring that the four-star admiral was surely dead. There would be no body to bury, but the man was gone anyway. Prematurely declared dead by people that hadn't known him, had never seen him, heard him…loved him. Those few words had the power to still the air, silence the world of sound and hurt like a sharp knife against the skin. The Institute mourned. Its people mourned the loss of not only their employer, but their friend.

 _Seaview's_ crew went about their duties listlessly, as if the soul of the great submarine had died when Nelson had disappeared. The officers of the submarine mourned in silence and alone, unable to bring themselves to share their sorrow, hoarding it as if sharing the pain would lessen its significance.

Lee Crane grieved quietly, his face a carefully controlled mask as he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his emotions hidden.

Early morning found a bleary-eyed Lee Crane, standing by the admiral's sailboat, trying to find the courage to go aboard.

"Skipper?"

He turned at the hesitant voice behind him and saw Chief Sharkey standing there, grief written plain as day on his weathered face.

"Chief," he acknowledged before turning back to his perusal of the sailboat. "I've been trying to get up the courage to go aboard her. Funny thing to say, isn't it? Courage to walk aboard a boat."

"I understand, sir," he murmured, knowing the thought of seeing reminders of the admiral would be hard for him, but harder still for the man before him. "If there's something you need, I could get it for you."

Lee sighed audibly. "Angie said the admiral took a briefcase with him when he left Friday. She doesn't think there are any critical or sensitive papers in it but I should find it. It may have something of importance in it we don't want anyone to see."

"I can do that for you!" Sharkey offered as he climbed aboard and disappeared below quickly.

Shamed at his weakness, the tall captain climbed aboard himself, stopping when he saw the broken mast, his breath catching once again when he pondered what the admiral must have gone through. But why? Why had he been out there? Why hadn't he come back before the storm hit? Why?

"Skipper? Uh…there's no briefcase below. Is Miss Angie sure he took it with him?"

"She said he was planning to work on some reports or proposals. I checked his car and it's not there. Maybe he left it at the house. I'll check there next," he said distractedly as he walked to the remains of the mast and gathered the frayed harness tether in his hands, cursing the ragged edges.

Sharkey came up beside him and reached a hand out to the tether. "That's strange."

"What is, Chief?" Crane asked disinterestedly.

"This tether…it's not the one I put on the harness when I checked the boat before the admiral left."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive. I changed the old one because it was a bit frayed. Not as badly as this one but I thought it best to replace it since that storm was coming. This isn't the same one. It's not even the same make," he continued, examining it more closely. "The admiral uses a West Marine dual hook safety tether. This one's a West Marine also, but it's a standard single tether and isn't the best quality. The admiral always told me that when your life depended on a few strands of nylon and quality clips, money didn't matter."

Crane looked closer and saw what Sharkey saw, wondering why he hadn't seen it before. "You're right, Chief. It isn't the same kind he uses."

"What do you think it means, Skipper?"

"I have no idea, Chief. There are a lot of explanations for it I suppose. Maybe his tether rope broke and he used something from his stores or he stopped some place and bought a replacement? Maybe one that had been older and worn and he didn't notice."

"I guess it could be," Sharkey agreed quietly.

"But?"

"I guess I'm just looking desperately for a reason to think he ain't gone."

"We all are, Chief. I don't know what difference this could make though other than it's an inferior tether. He's still gone."

"Yeah…I guess," Sharkey agreed sadly as he threw the tether down.

"I'm going to head over to his house, Chief. See if the briefcase is there."

"Do you want some company, sir?" Sharkey asked, knowing it was going to be hard for the man to enter the admiral's house.

Crane lowered his head as he thought over the offer, then shook his head. "I need to do it sometime. Might as well be now," he said softly as he jumped off the boat and walked to the parking lot, climbed into his low slung sports car and drove off.

~O~

Lee Crane, captain of the world's most sophisticated submarine in the world sat in his car and stared morosely at the door to the admiral's house in indecision. He didn't want to go inside, didn't want to feel the emptiness, and didn't want to see what was in there and who wasn't. Nor did he want to see the reminders of the man that had given him so much and was now dead.

Cursing his timidity loudly, he yanked the car door open, got out, slamming the door shut harder than necessary and walked purposefully to the door. Taking the key the admiral had given him years ago in case of emergency; he unlocked the door, stepping inside slowly. His gaze roamed the interior of the house and a pervading awareness of a presence filled him. It was as though he felt Nelson would simply come down the stairs in front of him any minute, smiling and asking him what he wanted to drink. But the knowledge that was not going to happen ever again overwhelmed him and he continued to gaze about the open room.

Everything was in its place as he knew it would be. He walked to the sliding door and opened it, stepping outside to the deck and stared out at the ocean below; seeing the rock the admiral liked to sit on to think or simply observe the ocean. Turning away, he went back inside and searched the house quickly for the missing briefcase but was surprised and a bit concerned when he didn't find it. Looking one more time through the spacious house, he gave up and drove back to the Institute hoping Angie had simply missed it in the admiral's office.

He walked into the outer office to see Angie on the phone and came to stand by her desk, waiting patiently.

"All right. You can send them up. Thanks," she said in an emotionless voice.

Lee watched as she dabbed at her reddened eyes with a handkerchief and looked up at him with a sad smile. "Did you find the briefcase?"

"No. It wasn't on the boat, it's not in his car and it's not at the house. Are you sure he took it?"

"I am. He said he was going to read over the reports while he lazed about on his deck. I remember telling him I was jealous," she whispered with a catch in her voice as she remembered the admiral as she'd last seen him.

Lee sighed loudly. "I don't know where it is then. It may have gone overboard I suppose."

"If he knew he was sailing into a storm, he would have had it below, wouldn't he?" Angie reasoned.

"I would think so but, it isn't onboard or in his car or the house. It doesn't make sense but it seems to have disappeared."

"It is strange," Angie agreed. "Another strange thing is that phone call I just got. There's a couple down at the gate wanting to talk to someone about the admiral. I told them to come on up."

"Any idea who they are or what they want?"

"Nope," she answered with disinterest.

"Well, I'll stick around and see what they want."

A few minutes later, an older couple walked into the office escorted by a security guard, their eyes sad as they acknowledged the two others in the room.

"Captain Crane, Miss Wood, this is Ed and Lucy Gathers."

"Thanks, Chuck. Please, come in," Angie welcomed with a forced attempt at a smile as she ushered them to chairs outside the admiral's office. "I was told you wanted to talk about the admiral?"

"Yes, we did. We heard this morning about how the search for Admiral Nelson has been called off and we…well we wanted to come here and tell you about an encounter we had a few days ago…early Sunday morning actually," Ed responded.

"An encounter?" Lee asked, sitting down by their sides, interest on his face.

"Yes. We were sailing down from Crescent City, California, headed to the marina in San Diego to see our boy who's stationed at the naval base there. Anyways, we were about ten miles off the coast of San Diego, when we ran into some trouble. We lost the wind and our engine up and died on us. We started drifting while I tried to figure out what was wrong but didn't have much luck. Anyways, a nice big sailing yacht came up beside us after we'd been drifting for a bit and helped us out. Had a nice chat with the man while he fixed the motor easy as you please. We were astonished to find out he was none other than Admiral Harriman Nelson! Well, me and the missus were shocked he'd take the time to help us out but he did. We thanked him for helping us and asked him where he was headed. Said he was going to the same marina we were in San Diego to ride the storm out and joked that he'd race us there. Said there was a big storm comin' and he wasn't about to be caught out in it. He was going to contact you all here and tell you where he was moored. From what we read, he didn't do that."

"No, he didn't. Did you see him again?" Lee asked, a frown on his face.

"Well, no. We were just about to get underway when we saw another boat…a big power boat…seemed to be having some engine trouble also by the sound the engine was making coming toward us and he waited for it."

"Did you see who it was?"

"It was a man…maybe 40 or 45, with long, blondish hair, slim. Had a thin face with round spectacles on. Admiral Nelson muttered something when the boat got nearer…a name maybe. Anyways, he told us we should get going to make sure we got to shelter before the storm hit, so we did. As we were heading off we turned back and watched them. Admiral Nelson tied the guy's boat off and…well, he looked like he was mad. Like whoever the guy was, he didn't want to talk to him."

"But he did?" Lee asked puzzled where they were going with the story.

"Yeah. It looked like they were arguing. Well, Nelson was angry. We could see that. The other guy just looked…don't know what..."

"He looked smug," Lucy said, speaking up for the first time.

"Yeah, you're right, Lucy. He looked smug. Like he knew something Admiral Nelson didn't."

"But what?" Angie asked.

"Don't really know. We watched them for a bit but we lost sight of them when the wind started to pick up and the waves increased."

"And you say this was only ten miles off the coast?"

"Yep. We only had a short run and got to San Diego by noon. Never saw the admiral there though but it is a large marina. He might have been some place on the other side for all we know."

"Can you describe the admiral's boat?" Lee asked.

"Forty…forty-five foot Columbia sailboat. Blue sails with yellow borders. Trim on the boat was blue. Name on the back read _The Folly._ "

Lee sighed heavily. "That's the admiral's boat all right."

"What do you think it means, Lee?" Angie asked.

"I don't know. If he was that close, he should have made it to the harbor in plenty of time ahead of the storm. Can you describe the other boat?" Lee asked.

"Just a run of the mill power boat. Big one. Mighta been a rental," Ed answered with a shrug.

"It had the name Seaforth Boat Rentals on the back," Lucy said decisively. "Out of Harbor Island."

The other three looked at her in surprise. "You're sure?"

"Yep. I remember things like that…license plate numbers, faces…bumper stickers…logos on the backs of cars or boats…don't know why, I just do."

"You never told me that, Lucy," Ed said in surprise.

"You never asked me, Ed," she grumbled.

"You said the admiral muttered something…a name. Do you remember what it might have been?" Lee asked intently, a spark of something flickering to life in his chest.

The two looked at each other for a second before Ed nodded to her. "I'm not sure," Lucy replied uncertainly. "It was French sounding to me…like De something…Dejardin? Or DeGeorge or…"

"DeJean?" Lee asked in a harsh voice, leaning forward in his chair. "Was it DeJean?"

"DeJean! That's what it was! Does that mean anything to you?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah, it means something all right. You're sure of everything you've told us?"

"Wouldn't lie about any of it. Not sure really why we thought you needed to know but our son told us we should come here and talk to you."

"Well, we're grateful you did. Angie did you write down what they said?" Lee asked as he and the Gathers rose.

"I did," she said with a quizzical look.

Lee held his hand out to the couple. "Thank you for coming here and telling us about the last time you saw Admiral Nelson. It means a lot to us."

"I'm sorry he's gone. He was such a nice man. He didn't have to stop and help us but he did," Lucy said quietly with a tear in her eye. "Maybe if he hadn't…he'd be alive now."

"Doubt we'd have made it to shelter before that storm hit if he hadn't helped us," Ed said quietly as he shook Lee's hand. "He probably saved our lives."

"That's the kind of man he was," Lee answered softly as he escorted the couple to the door, opened it, and gestured to the guard waiting patiently outside. "Chuck? Could you escort the Gathers down to their car?"

"Yes sir."

"And I want to thank you both for coming in," Lee said. "You don't know how much it means to us."

"Lee? What are you thinking?" Angie asked as the door closed and Lee stood by it, a thumb absently stroking his lip in a gesture that reminded her painfully of the admiral.

"I don't know, Angie. I don't know."

"You're thinking the same thing I am, aren't you? Charles DeJean did something to the admiral," she spat out angrily.

"Maybe," he answered quietly as he walked back to the chair and threw himself into it. "But what? Contact this rental place and find out if Charles DeJean rented a boat from them and when. Find out if he brought it back. And if DeJean _didn't_ rent one, find out if any boats were rented but not returned. I'll be in the admiral's office," he said, launching himself from the chair and striding off with a bit of a spring in his steps.

Lee entered Nelson's office and studiously avoided looking at the neat desk in front of him. Walking to the window overlooking the ocean below, he clenched his jaw in anger and frustration as he remembered Charles DeJean. A little over three months ago, Admiral Nelson had discovered DeJean, hired almost a year ago for NIMR's new Bioprospecting Research Division **,** was working clandestinely late at night on developing drugs he planned to sell to the highest bidders. Most were designer drugs such as psychotropics, but one of them was a drug that could cause intense pain to anyone injected with it. When Nelson had discovered what he was doing and saw the research for himself of that particular drug's intentions, and its prospective buyers, he'd blanched then became enraged that someone he trusted, someone he respected, would manufacture such a heinous drug and do it on NIMR property and with NIMR funds.

The admiral had confiscated the drugs found in his NIMR lab and notified authorities. Charges were brought against DeJean, but before he could be arrested, he'd packed up and vanished, promising revenge on the admiral, the Institute and anyone connected with Nelson in any way with bodily harm.

After a few months with no sign of the man or his promised retribution, they'd let their guard down and had gone about their business. But what if DeJean had only been waiting, biding his time? If so, what had he done? Nelson knew of DeJean's threats and had taken them seriously. He wouldn't have just invited the man onboard, then turned his back. Would he? He ran a hand over his gritty, tired eyes and shook his head. Maybe it hadn't been Charles DeJean that the Gathers had seen. Maybe it had been someone else that had tied up at the admiral's boat. Maybe they hadn't seen what they thought they had. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Would they ever know for sure?

"Lee?"

He turned at the voice behind him and saw Angie there.

"Angie, did you get in touch with the boat rental place?"

"Yes, I did but no Charles DeJean rented a boat at any time last weekend or near then."

"Damn it! I hoped…"

"Wait…no Charles DeJean, but there is a John David Charles who hasn't returned his rental yet and he was supposed to have come back Sunday afternoon. He's one of the men the Coast Guard is looking for actually. I just checked."

"John David Charles?" Lee said thoughtfully. "That's too close to Charles David DeJean to be a coincidence. Did you ask for a description?"

"I did. According to the woman that rented the boat to him, it's the same description the Gathers gave us…thin, long blond hair, mid-forties, glasses. What does it mean, Lee?"

"I don't know, Angie. If it is DeJean…," he stopped what he was about to say, remembering the threats he had made against the admiral. "I don't know. Get Chip down here, will you? We need to talk."

Angie nodded and picked up the phone on the admiral's desk and called down to Chip's office, asking him to come down.

A short time later, Chip came into the admiral's office and watched as Lee paced back and forth in front of the window.

"Lee? What's up?"

Crane stopped his pacing and gave a brief synopsis of what the Gathers had told him and what Angie had found out.

"So, what are you thinking?" Chip asked as he seated himself in a chair by the admiral's desk beside Angie and watched Lee resumed pacing.

"What I'm thinking is DeJean did something to the admiral."

"Did something?" Chip asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You have to think it's suspicious, don't you? A man answering to DeJean's description goes onboard the admiral's boat hours before he's lost at sea. Don't you find that a big coincidence?" Lee asked as he seated himself on the edge of the desk and faced Chip who leaned back in his chair.

"It may not be DeJean at all, Lee. Just because the name sounded French doesn't mean it was him."

"Or it may be him. And if it is and he killed the admiral, I'm going to make him pay," Lee said harshly.

"All this is fine but what are we going to do? How are we going to find out if it _was_ DeJean and where he took the admiral?" Angie asked, a hard edge to her voice.

"Took him? Why wouldn't he just kill him? He hated the admiral," Chip said.

"He _did_ hate the admiral and when he left here after the admiral had told him he'd found out what he was doing, he was livid. He threatened to make the admiral pay. DeJean's not right in the head. I don't think he'd just kill him. It's too easy," Angie said with a catch in her voice. "I think he'd want to hurt him. Badly."

Chip looked to Lee who had closed his eyes, pondering what Angie had said. "Hurt him badly. But how? If the admiral hadn't confiscated that drug from the lab I'd think he was using it on him. But the admiral made sure it was all seized. And if it is DeJean, where would he have taken him?"

"Where? He could have taken him anywhere," Chip said angrily throwing his hands in the air.

"Look, we're kind of jumping to conclusions aren't we?" Lee asked quietly. "Maybe…maybe I just want him to be alive so badly I'm grasping at straws."

"How do we find out though? I'd rather be looking for a way for the admiral to be alive than sitting out there crying some more," Angie said quietly.

"Chip? How about you and I take a little road trip."

"To?"

"San Diego. Seaforth Boat Rentals, specifically."

"Let's do it," Chip agreed rising quickly.

"Angie, we'll keep you informed of what we find out," Lee said as he began to follow Chip.

"Lee? Do you think…is there any way he could still be alive?" Angie asked in a small voice.

"I don't know, Angie. I want to believe it. More than anything I've ever wanted before. I just don't know," he said clasping her on the shoulder.

"Well, we're never going to know until we get moving," Chip said heading out the door quickly, Lee on his heels.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 _Thank you all for the reviews! You want to know where Harry is? This is the chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Mila, you can post your poems any time you want. I for one enjoy them._

A harsh, scorching sun beat down on the brown-yellow, gritty dust of the desert, its heat baking the surrounding ground to an unbearable temperature and causing the air in the distance to shimmer. In the middle of a long, lonely canyon, a small, flimsy wooden house sat at the end of a slim track of road that led to it across barren dunes. A jagged rock wall rose from the sandy ground beside the hut, casting the road in deep shadows, the color rivaling the sand's for blandness. A tall, thin man with sandy-blond windblown hair walked out of the hut and stood on the long, rickety porch, wiping a rag across his thin, owlish face. Raising his face to the sky, he took his glasses off, closed his eyes and smiled as he felt the sun's warmth beat down on him. It was going to be a good day. A very good day. Possibly a day where he would get what he wanted. Finally.

A small sound from within the ramshackle house caused him to turn and reenter the sweltering interior. "Ah…Harry. You're awake! Very good! Now we can start again," he crowed happily as he advanced slowly on the man who knelt in the dust and detritus of the stiflingly hot room, his hands tied together and attached to a long board that ran the length of the dilapidated room, his arms forced to be raised over his head.

"What…whatever you say you pompous ass," Harriman Nelson said with a smile, wishing once again he had paid more attention to the surrounding seas. Letting Charles DeJean con him into believing he needed help had been a serious miscalculation. But he had professed his need for aid, promised he would turn himself in to the authorities on reaching port and Nelson had believed him. _Too trusting. Much too trusting. I really believed you needed help. Wish I hadn't turned my back on you though,_ he thought to himself as waves of pain coursed through his bruised and battered body. If DeJean was anything it was thorough. There wasn't a spot on his body that wasn't bruised and he frowned as he realized he'd lost track of how long he'd been here, wherever here was. The last thing he'd remembered was telling DeJean he'd take a look at his engine when he'd felt a blinding pain in his head. He'd awakened here blindfolded and gagged and tied in the same position he was now.

"How long have we been at this anyway?" Nelson asked grimacing as a cut on his lip opened and drops of blood trickled down his chin.

"Do you mean to tell me you don't know? The great Admiral Nelson doesn't know something. What do you know about that? But then you didn't know everything that was happening on your own Institute grounds did you?"

"You mean your experiments to develop a pain-inducing drug for sale to the highest bidder? Or your drug lab paid for with NIMR funds?"

"Yes, those would be things you didn't find out until recently."

"What else don't I know?"

"Now, that is something you'll have to find out for yourself. Oh but… you can't, can you? You see, you don't know this," DeJean said kneeling by Nelson's side and whispering to him in a conspiratorial tone, "But you're dead!"

"What?"

DeJean burst into laughter at the look on Nelson's face. "Everyone at that pit you call an Institute thinks you're dead. Your friends, your loyal employees…everyone!"

"Why? Why...why would they think I'm dead?"

"Because you are, Harry. You see, you went on a sail after having a fight with your best friend and you never came back. They searched for you but never found your body. No body to bury but…oh well! Think of the anguish Crane is going through right now," DeJean crowed gleefully as he rose and stalked about the debris-strewn hut, kicking with vigor empty cans that littered the filthy floor. "I would love to be there to see it but, then I couldn't be here giving you the attention you so richly deserve."

"How do you know Lee and I argued?" Nelson managed to croak out, pain radiating through his body as he tried to sit up a bit to ease the pain in his shoulders and to take the weight off his knees. Hours of beatings had left him with blurred vision and probably multiple broken ribs, not to mention countless bruises. "You weren't there."

DeJean laughed boisterously. "How do I know? How do I…? Oh Harry. You think all of your employees are loyal to you, don't you?" he asked in a sad tone as he sauntered back to him. Bending down, he grabbed Nelson's chin in his hand, forcing it up. "They aren't! No, they aren't. Not all of them."

"So you have someone at NIMR that fed you info?"

"I had an accomplice. He thinks he is more important to my operation than he really is and thinks he will share greatly in my endeavors. But he's wrong," he shrugged, letting go of Nelson's chin, smiling as it dropped to his chest. "He was even kind enough to tell me the police were on the way, giving me more than enough time to flee."

"I don't know how I could have ever considered you a friend. Or that you were ever sane."

"I am _very_ sane, Harry. And _very_ angry and _very_ vengeful," DeJean growled in a low, hate-filled voice as he stood up. "I plan to make the rest of your days as painful as I can possibly make them."

"Why, Charles? Why are you doing this?" Nelson asked in a quiet voice, trying to ignore the pain that merely breathing caused. "This won't change anything."

"It doesn't have to _change_ anything, Nelson. But you can sit there and ask me why I hate you and want to cause you as much pain as possible? You act as though you have no idea what your morals have cost me! You cost me _everything_!" he screamed into Nelson's face, then resumed his almost frantic pacing. "I was so close to selling my pain drug. I had the perfect client all lined up and ready to pay me what I asked. Surprising really how easy it was to find a buyer but then, there are so many who find pain an attractive commodity. So many. But you...you couldn't look the other way, could you? No. Not the great Nelson. I even offered to let you in on the operation but you refused! You took my livelihood, my career. My clients didn't want to be caught with the goods so to speak and they left me holding the bag! How can you ask me why I want to see you die piece by piece? You made sure I would never be hired by anyone ever again! More than that, I was about to be arrested and sent to jail for merely trying to make a living."

"Make a living! My God! The designer drugs you planned to sell were bad enough but the pain-inducing drug you were developing was…was horrendous! I can't imagine the amount of pain it would have caused! And for what? A few dollars? You are the only one to blame for what happened, Charles."

DeJean stopped his pacing and turned back, watching as Nelson tried hard to find a way of relieving the agony that coursed through him. With a sadistic smile he walked back and knelt by Nelson. "You can't imagine the amount of pain it would have caused? Hmmm…yes. That's true I suppose. You can't. Now," he agreed as he rose slowly, a cruel smile on his face as he walked to an old, beat up cooler on the other side of the room and pulled a vial from the interior.

Closing the top, he turned back to Nelson who suddenly felt his blood run cold as he watched DeJean saunter back and kneel by him, praying he was wrong about what he was planning.

"But soon…oh so very soon…you will know the beauty of my drug, Harry. Pain…excruciating waves of agonizing, unbearable pain. That's what's in this," he boasted holding the vial of liquid up to the sun that streamed through the dusty windows. "And if there were, say something I wanted to know…you would tell me just so I didn't inject you with this again. You thought you had gotten every last drop of the drug, didn't you? Guess what? You didn't!"

"Charles…"

"Yes, Harry? Something you want to say? Or ask? Such as how do I still have the drug you had confiscated? Or perhaps you want to beg me not to use this on you?"

Nelson stared at the vial in DeJean's hand then up to the sadistic grin on his face and forced himself to relax, preparing himself for what was ahead.

"Ah, Harry. I'm rather glad you aren't willing to beg me right now. I so want to see what this will really do on a live human test subject. You know the monkeys I tested this on all went mad, don't you? But what will it do to you?" he asked as he reached behind him and grabbed a less than clean syringe from a table, filled it with the fluid and turned back. "Any last words? No? Well, let's see what happens, shall we?"

Nelson struggled as hard as he could to avoid the syringe that drew closer but a quick backhand had his senses reeling and he flinched as the needle bit into his arm. He laid his head back and stared at DeJean. "They'll come for me. Lee and…and Chip. You'll see. They'll…"

But pain began to flow through his body before he could finish his thought. He knew exactly where the drug was in his system as white hot needles of agony coursed through him and he tried hard not to give in to the cry that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. But eventually the pain was too much and he surrendered to it, screaming until his throat was raw.

Smiling as scream after scream erupted from Nelson, DeJean sat down and watched, listening to the agony he had caused in the man that had cost him so much, the man he was consumed with hate for. It was better than he had hoped. Much better.

~O~

Some time later, Harry felt himself swimming through waves of agonizing pain that filled him and struggled to open his eyes **.** The room about him was bathed in the muted light of early evening and the heat that had been sweltering earlier was beginning to cool some as the sun began its descent. How many days had he been here? He couldn't remember. Was it two? Three? Maybe four? He had no idea as each day seemed exactly as the last, colored by the pain that assaulted his body.

Spotting DeJean on the far side of the room, he quickly closed his eyes, not wanting to give the man a reason to start the torture again. Licking his dry, chapped lips, he wished hard for just one small glass of water to cool his parched throat. Water and food had been given to him sparingly by his captor…just enough to keep him alive. He struggled to regain some semblance of strength, some composure to show the man on the other side of the room that he hadn't won. But a part of Harry wasn't so sure he had it in him. He'd never felt the kind of pain DeJean's drug had caused before. Neither the mind stealing machine of Tabor Ulrich * nor the drug Yuri Andreyev ** had used on him had caused as much and he felt actual panic rise in him at the prospect of another round. And he knew with a certainty there would be a second round. And a third. And a fourth if he lived that long. DeJean's anger would not be assuaged so easily.

He tensed as he heard DeJean rise and saunter across the room to kneel beside him.

"Awake yet, Harry?" he crooned, his finger lifting Nelson's head so he could look into his swollen, bruised face. "Tell me how well my drug works. Tell me what it felt like."

Harry tried his hardest to give no indication he was awake but knew it was futile. "Oh, playing possum are we? I want you awake," he said angrily as he stood and kicked him in the ribs, a grunt of pain escaping Nelson's lips.

"That's better," he murmured as he leaned over and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head up. "There's something I want you to see. Something you're going to just love. I drove all the way to the closest town while you were sleeping after your little shot and got this. Just for you!"

Harry struggled to get his eyes to focus on whatever it was DeJean held in his hands but wasn't successful. "What…what is it?"

"What is it? It's your death sentence," he answered coldly holding a newspaper up in his hands. "You think your friends are looking for you, don't you? Well, they aren't. Why? The answer is right here. Read it!"

Harry tried again to get his eyes to focus but couldn't. "I…I can't see it."

In anger, DeJean thrust Harry away from him and began reading:

" _Retired_ _Four-star Admiral Harriman Nelson, founder of the Nelson Institute of Marine Research, and owner/designer of the submarine Seaview disappeared in this past weekend's storm while sailing off the southern California coast. His empty sailboat was discovered drifting off the coast of San Diego on Tuesday by Coast Guard ships. The search was called off yesterday when the latest storm to lash the search area hit. According to Coast Guard officials, it is believed Nelson fell overboard during the storm and drowned._

 _No word on when Nelson will be officially declared dead but it would seem to be only a matter of time._

 _No one at the Nelson Institute of Marine Research was available to comment."_

"Imagine it! The world famous marine biologist claimed by the sea he loved. Ironic isn't it? And quite sad. So sad."

DeJean laughed as he saw something akin to defeat fill Nelson's eyes. Only for a moment, then it was gone, replaced by defiance.

"You know I switched out your brand new harness tether for a frayed one so they would believe you'd gone overboard. Don't you think that was clever of me, Harry?" he asked. "They think you're dead. I would love to be there right now, seeing their tears, hearing their cries of 'What are we going to do now?' Pitiful excuses of humanity. What will they do now without your guidance? Hmmm? Will the Institute fade away into nothingness? Or will it be sold to the highest bidder? Oh! Perhaps it will become a division of the government designing weapons of mass destruction! Any ideas, Harry? Any plans for what they will do in the event of your death?"

Nelson listened to DeJean's words, his heart breaking at the thought of what his friends were going through right now. The hope Lee and Chip would find him somehow began to fade as he realized they had no way of knowing he was still alive. His thoughts must have been written on his face as DeJean suddenly began to laugh.

"You _do_ see! I'm so glad you finally see that there is no hope. No hope for you at all! You're alone, Harry. No one is coming for you. No one is looking for you. No one will save you from what's ahead. You and I will stay here experimenting. And when I tire of watching you writhe in agony and scream in pain, perhaps I will let you have the death you'll pray for. But, not just yet," he chuckled as he walked back to the cooler and took another vial, preparing it quickly.

Walking slowly back to the prostrate Nelson, he giggled. "I'm so glad you went for that sail. I was told of your argument with Crane and how he left in a huff. So sad, wasn't it? When I was told you were leaving on your boat, I knew I had you. I knew you would be mine. I watched you sail off. All alone and unprotected. Poor Crane. He must be feeling such guilt."

"You...you were on the shore when I left, weren't you? I thought I saw something on the cliffs."

"Yes. I was on the cliffs watching. Too bad you didn't turn back."

"How? How do you know...?"

"If you live through this shot, I may just tell you how I know what happened between you and Crane and how I still have my lovely drug. Maybe," he said as he plunged the needle into Nelson's arm and sat down to watch and hear the effect his drug had on the helpless admiral.

* The Cyborg Season Two

** The Last Goodbye


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 _Thanks for the reviews! To those I cannot contact...Ghost of the sea, Mila, nans, beth r, judithya88,gemhornet, mta, SeaSoul and any I may have missed...Thank you!_

Not far away, Lee and Chip arrived at Harbor Island in San Diego and searched for the company that had rented a boat to the man they suspected of being Charles David DeJean.

"There, Chip. Up on the right," Lee said, pointing to a large sign that read "Seaforth Boat Rentals".

Nodding, Chip drove down the street and turned into the parking lot. Getting out of the big truck, the two men looked about them at the rows of boats lining the harbor then spotted the office. "Come on," Lee ordered brusquely as he headed towards it.

The door they were headed for opened unexpectedly, nearly hitting Lee as a man stepped from the office.

"Lee? What are you doing here?" the man asked in surprise.

"Bob! I have some questions for the owner. What brings you here?" he asked the Coast Guard officer they'd last seen on the admiral's boat.

"I came to give the owner an update on one of his boats that never came back this weekend. Lost in the same storm as…uh…"

"It's all right, Bob," Lee interrupted. "Funny thing is we're here about the same thing if you're here about a John Charles."

"That's who I'm here about all right, but what does he have to do with you?" Miller asked in confusion.

"We have reason to believe the man that you're looking for…John David Charles...is a man that was fired from NIMR a few months back. We had a visit from a couple that said shortly before the storm hit, they'd lost the wind and began drifting when they couldn't get their engine started. The admiral happened on them as he was heading towards San Diego and fixed their motor and sent them on their way. As they sailed off, they watched a man matching the description of that employee…Charles DeJean…come alongside the admiral's boat shortly after they had left the admiral. The boat was a rental out of Harbor Island. A little checking found a boat hadn't been returned and the renter's name was John Charles."

"And you think this DeJean and Charles are the same person?"

"Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?" Chip asked.

"But what would that have to do with Nelson's death?"

"We're not convinced the admiral is dead, at least not from that storm," Lee answered, filling him in on the events of the past few months that caused both _Seaview_ officers to suspect foul play was involved in the admiral's disappearance.

Miller let out a low whistle. "And you think this DeJean took the admiral somewhere to…what?"

"He promised Admiral Nelson that somehow he would get back at him. I think that may be what's happening. Or happened," he answered softly, pain written on his face as he pondered the implications of what he'd said.

"The question is, how do we find him?" Chip asked quietly.

"That _is_ a good question," Miller said running a hand over his face. "We haven't had a lead at all about this boat Charles rented."

"Did the owner have a picture of this Charles?" Lee asked.

"Yeah, he did. He copied his driver's license for security. Here," he said digging into a folder he carried and handing them a copy of the man's license. "John David Charles, age 46, address 4523 Point Loma Drive, San Diego."

Lee looked at the picture and clenched his jaw tightly before handing the copy to Chip. "That's Charles DeJean."

"Yeah, it is," Chip echoed. "Any ideas how to find him?"

Miller shrugged. "We've been looking for him. There's no sign of him or the boat. But him being near Nelson right before the storm hit is suspicious to say the least."

"But again, what do we do? How do we find him?" Chip asked.

"We've searched all the marinas. There's no evidence this DeJean ever came back ashore."

"Well, he has to be somewhere!" Lee growled. "And wherever he is, the admiral is. If he's still alive."

At that moment the door to the marina office opened and a young blonde woman called out, "Captain Miller? There's a call for you from one of your men. You can take it in here if you like."

"Thanks. Lee, calm down. If Nelson was alive after that storm, there's a chance he could still be alive. I'll be right back."

Morton watched Miller disappear inside the office, then to Lee as he walked slowly to the wharf, staring out over the array of boats docked at the spacious pier rocking gently in the current. "Easy Lee," Chip murmured, clasping him tightly on the shoulder. "We'll find him."

"Alive?" he whispered. "Or are we too late? Maybe he really is dead."

"I can't answer that. I just know we aren't going to give up until we find him. Or DeJean."

"And how are we going to do that? It's been almost a week."

"I may actually have a lead."

The two _Seaview_ officers turned to see Miller coming towards them a smile on his face.

"What?"

"A man was arrested at his home about an hour ago by SDPD. The guy's neighbors called the police because he was making too much noise and threatened the neighbors when they complained. They said he had a bright, shiny new power boat in his backyard and they were pretty sure he didn't have the money for one. Officers got there, looked in the guy's backyard and there sits a beautiful Sea Ray 260 with the logo for Seaforth Boat Rentals emblazoned on the back."

"What? Where is this?" Lee asked in shock.

"I have my car here," Miller said. "Follow me and I'll show you the way."

A quick drive down I-5 took them to a residential community of small homes. Pulling to a stop in front of one of the houses, the men saw two police cruisers parked outside.

Miller got out of his car and strode quickly towards one of the officers and listened to what the man said, then motioned for Lee and Chip to follow him into the backyard where a big Sea Ray 260 sat in a shed.

"The officer said the guy that had the boat, a Benji Welsh, lives here. Guy said he found the boat drifting offshore a few days ago and was going to return it, but I highly doubt that's the truth."

"Can we talk to him?" Lee asked.

"Let's see what the officer in charge says," Bob said. "Come on."

The men walked to a broad shouldered officer with close-cropped black hair who was busily writing in a small notebook.

"Officer Roberts? These men are from the Nelson Institute of Marine Research up in Santa Barbara. They were wondering if they could possibly talk to your suspect."

"Why?" he asked, looking up at the men before him with a puzzled expression.

"We have reason to believe the man that rented this boat was the last person to see our boss alive. We want to ask this guy if he had any dealings with him," Lee said nodding to Welsh

"Your boss, huh? You mean Admiral Harriman Nelson, don't you?" he replied with a slightly cool look.

"Yes, yes I do. He's…he's a good friend."

"And declared dead, or on his way to being declared dead, from what I heard earlier," the officer remarked shortly as he snapped his notebook closed.

"Declaring someone dead doesn't make them dead," Chip replied quietly as he glared at the young officer.

Roberts smiled slightly at that. "You're right. It doesn't. But just how do you think this guy could possibly have any answers for you?"

"I don't know," Lee answered with a shrug. "I just don't think Admiral Nelson is dead. The man that rented that boat right there was a man that had recently been let go by NIMR. He vowed vengeance on the admiral. The mere fact he and the admiral were seen together right before that storm hit and the fact neither of them has been seen since sends all kinds of alarm bells ringing in my head."

"Hmmm…does sound suspicious, I'll give you that. All right. Let's go talk to him."

The men walked over to where a man in his mid-thirties sat on a picnic table, hands cuffed in front of him and looking about with a mixture of fear and defiance on his face.

"Benji? These men have questions for you. Talk to them or you won't see the outside for a very long time," Roberts ordered in a deep tone.

"Benji," Lee called softly. "Who told you where to find the boat?"

"What…what are you talking about? I didn't have no one tell me where to find it. I…I just…found it, drifting like I said."

"You're lying," Lee whispered as he leaned close to Welsh. "Mr. Charles won't be happy with you. Perhaps you know him as DeJean. Ring any bells?"

A startled expression flitted briefly over Welsh's face before settling down into a blank stare. "I don't know no Charles. Or a Dejean."

"Yes, you do, Benji. And if you help us find him, we'll help you with the charges you're facing."

"Charges. I ain't scared of grand theft boat charges," he smirked.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about the boat. I was talking about aiding and abetting kidnapping and quite possibly accessory to murder. You scared about _those_ charges?" Lee asked harshly.

"What…what are you talking about? All I did was…"

"Was what?"

"I…I found the boat…I…"

"Can it!" Lee yelled. "The man that hired you kidnapped a very important man and quite possibly killed him. And you, my scruffy friend, are an accomplice to that! Now talk!"

"Kidnapped? Kidnapped who?" Welsh asked, fear written plainly on his face.

"Admiral Harriman Nelson," Lee answered coldly, smiling slightly when Welsh's face drained of color.

"Talk to them, Benji," Roberts said. "I'll help you. Do you know what will happen to you if we find Nelson dead and you had a hand, however small, in it? People from all over the country are going to want a piece of you."

Welsh dropped his eyes from Lee's face. "All right, all right. Charles…he contacted me through a friend. Said he had a job for me. All I had to do was go to this old dock about ten miles south of here and wait for him. I did and he…he came in that boat back there."

"Then what?"

"I helped him unload some stuff from the boat and put it into his truck that was parked by the dock."

"What kind of stuff?" Roberts asked.

"Coolers, sleeping bags, a radio, a big duffel bag."

"What was in the duffel?" Roberts asked.

"I…I don't know. I didn't open it. Whatever it was, it was heavy."

"Heavy enough to be a man?" Lee asked tightly.

"Coulda been. I didn't ask no questions. He paid me well. Said to take the boat and immediately paint over the name. Said I could do what I wanted with it. I didn't get around to painting it yet. Woulda if the stupid neighbors…"

"You said a friend of yours set this all up," Roberts interrupted. "What's your friend's name?"

"I can't tell you that!" Welsh cried. "I…I don't want to get him in trouble."

"He's already in trouble. And nothing you've said up to this point is going to help you. I need a name," Roberts demanded.

Welsh dropped his head to his chest and shook his head in dejection. After a few minutes he looked up. "My friend's name is Chuck Snyder. He works at…"

"NIMR," Lee whispered in horror. Turning to Roberts he said, "Snyder is one of our security guards at NIMR. A trusted guard I thought."

"Apparently not too trustworthy," Roberts answered sarcastically before turning back to Benji. "Were you supposed to have any other contact with him? Any idea how to contact him?"

"No. I don't have any idea how to get in touch with him. Charles said he didn't want to see me again. He just jumped in that truck and took off."

"What kind of truck was it?" Roberts asked as he took out his notebook again.

"Uh, red Ford. I think if was an F-250. License plate was California but I don't know the plate number," he answered quietly.

"Did you see which way he went?" Roberts continued.

"Yeah. I watched for a while. He headed up Monument Road."

"Any idea where he was headed?" Lee asked.

Welsh sighed loudly. "No place near civilization is my guess."

"Why?"

"He had lots of water containers in the back. And like I said, he had coolers…sleeping bags…a small ham radio…he wasn't goin' to no hotel."

"That doesn't give us much to go on," Lee muttered, shaking his head in dejection.

"Lee, Chuck might know," Chip said.

"Yeah, but who can we trust back at NIMR? If Chuck turned…"

Both men suddenly grinned, looked at each other and said, "Sharkey."

Quickly the two men used Officer Roberts' radio and got in contact with Angie at NIMR, filling her in quickly on what they'd found out. A short time later she had Sharkey in her office where Crane explained the situation to the chief, his rage at what one of NIMR's own may have done filling him.

"I'll track him down, sir. And I'll take Ski and Patterson with me. You know they're loyal to the admiral. Chuck'll tell us what we want to know. You can count on that. I'll get back to you soon as I know anything," Sharkey assured, signing off quickly.

"Lee?" Bob Miller called quietly. "Seems you have enough help finding Admiral Nelson now. I have to head back to base. Let me know if you find him?"

"I will, Bob. Thanks for helping us. If you hadn't been looking for that boat the same time we got to the boat rental…"

"It was just good timing. Take it easy," he called as he strode to his car and drove off down the road.

The next half hour passed slowly as Lee and Chip waited for word on what Chuck had to say, rage filling them over and over as they thought of what the guard had been a part of.

"Damn that man," Lee muttered softly. "We trusted him and he does this?"

"Lee we don't know for sure he did anything," Chip admonished. "All of this may just be a coincidence. Benji may be lying. You have to calm down."

"I can't calm down, Chip. If DeJean has the admiral, you know they aren't just sitting around a campfire, making s'mores and talking about old times. He's…," Lee shook his head, jammed his hands into his pockets and walked off, unable to pull his thoughts away from what his friend might be going through.

Chip watched Lee walk off knowing the turmoil he was in because he felt the same way. Over the years, he and Nelson had crafted a relationship that went beyond the normal bounds of employer/employee or superior/subordinate and, although not as close to him as Lee, Chip felt every bit as badly as Lee did. He felt helpless to do anything for the two men that had become as close to him as his own brothers were. He would straight up, flat out die for either one of them and it tore at his heart to watch one friend in pain because the other was missing, hurt or possibly dead.

Roberts' radio crackled to life, pulling both men from their reveries when they heard the unmistakable voice of Chief Francis Sharkey. "Skipper? It's Sharkey. You ain't gonna believe what I got to tell you."

Lee raced back to the police cruiser and picked up the microphone. "What is it, Chief?"

"That Snyder's been scheming with that DeJean fellow the admiral fired a few months back. He's been watching the admiral for a chance for DeJean to get him. When he knew the admiral was going off in his boat by himself, he contacted DeJean who planned out how he was gonna take him."

"From what Angie said, the admiral's plans were made pretty quickly. How did DeJean get here so fast?" Crane asked.

"He said DeJean's been hiding out somewhere. Didn't say where but I got a bad feeling it was his place he was staying at. And Skipper? When we went to Snyder's apartment on the grounds? He had vials of stuff."

"Vials? What was in them?" Crane asked, praying it wasn't what he was afraid they were.

Sharkey was silent for a bit then said, "Different drugs…amphetamines, barbiturates, sedatives… stuff like that but…there were vials of that pain drug DeJean was working on, sir. Snyder said he and another guard were to take that drug and all the others out of DeJean's lab and bring it all to the admiral, which they did. But Chuck had been storing some of DeJean's drugs at his apartment for him. The admiral didn't get all of it like we thought, sir."

Crane's face blanched at what Sharkey had just said. "Oh no. He's using that drug of his on him," he whispered to himself. "Does Snyder have any idea where DeJean took the admiral?"

"He didn't want to tell us but we convinced him it was a good idea," Sharkey answered smugly.

"I don't care how you found out, Chief. What did he say?"

"He said he was going somewhere east of San Diego. Near some park-Anzio or something. He didn't seem too clear on where it was though."

"Anzio? Are you sure?"

"No. Not Anzio. He probably means Anza-Borrego Desert State Park," Roberts interrupted. "It's about an hour and a half, maybe two hour drive from here. Very unforgiving terrain up that way. Lots of places to hide out."

"Chief, was it Anza Borrego? Is that what Snyder said?"

"Yeah! That's it. He said he had some kind of cabin or house somewhere near the park. Not anywhere near a road."

 _Not close enough for anyone to hear the admiral's screams_ , Lee thought grimly.

"Did he have a town or crossroads or anything to give us a starting spot? North or south or west of the park?" Crane asked forlornly as he looked at the area on the map Roberts was pointing to, seeing nothing but a vast open, desolate area.

"Hang on, Skipper," he muttered. The sounds of animated conversation met his ears before he returned. "The only thing he says he can tell us is the cabin might be near a little town called Cienega."

"Why might be? Doesn't he know?"

"Not for sure. He just said DeJean told him he had a stop to make before he got to the cabin. He got a brief glimpse of the map he had and that town was circled."

"All right. That gives us a starting spot at least. Does he have any other information?"

"No. Sorry sir. He swore that was all he knew."

"All right. Call the Santa Barbara Police, tell them what he told you and have him put under arrest. See if you can get him to give up any other names, anyone else that might not be loyal to the admiral or NIMR."

"Got it, sir. Skipper? Do you…well do you think the admiral's alive?"

Crane was quiet for a long time as he pondered the question. "I think he was, Chief. But if DeJean is using that drug on him, I don't know if he's still alive."

"Aye, sir. Do you want us to come out there and help search?"

Lee thought for a long minute. "Yeah. That's not a bad idea. Have Patterson stay with Snyder. Make sure he can't get away. See if he'll give up any more information before the police get there. Ask him if DeJean had a contact at the park or near there."

"You think he's got one, Skipper?"

"He seems to have people ready to help him. Get some men together, Chief to help search."

"Where should we head to start searching, Skipper?"

"Officer?" Lee called to Roberts. "I have men coming to help in the search. Any suggestions on where they can start looking?"

Roberts nodded. "Good idea. The more people we can get on this the better," he agreed spreading out a large map on the hood of his car. "All right. This is Cienega. As you can see there's some desolate country there. Not much out that way."

"Sounds like just the place DeJean wants. No one around to…to see him," Lee said quietly.

"Well, he chose a good place to hide. Your informant said he was heading near Anza Borrego. The park headquarters is located here at Borrego Springs on the far eastern side of the park. Beyond that, the park is pretty wild. Campgrounds are located here in this area," Roberts said pointing to an area on the map. "There's a small ranger station located here on the western side of the park. That's not too far from Cienega."

"Looks like a good place for us to start," Crane said.

"I agree. The ranger there may be able to give you a lead on where this cabin is. In the meantime, I'll have my office alert the rangers in the district to be on the lookout for DeJean and I'll pass on Benji's description of DeJean's truck. They can alert rangers throughout this area and the western side of the park to be on the lookout. But, I have to warn you, the rangers are stretched pretty thin right now. There's some fire activity north of there."

"The desert's on fire?" Chip asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not as uncommon as you might think. But yes, it is on fire. Cactus burns quite well. As for your men, have them start on the northern edge of the park here," he said pointing to an area north of the headquarters. "Then head down to the visitor center and ask for further instructions. It's a long drive from Santa Barbara but we could use the coverage up that way."

"Chief? Have your men start at the northern end of Anza Borrego Park and work their way south. Make sure they're in four wheel drive vehicles with CB radios and head to the Visitor Center at Borrego Springs. Ask the ranger there for further instructions. We'll keep in touch with you by radio. Dress in civvies. We don't want to stand out. DeJean is driving a red Ford pick up. Keep an eye out for it."

"Got it, sir. Good luck," he said before signing off.

Chip watched as Lee held on to the microphone, his thoughts some place else. "Well, we have a possible destination. What do _we_ do now?" Chip asked trying to draw Lee back from the dark place he'd gone: the dark place where Nelson was once again dead. Painfully dead.

"I'll contact my superiors. We'll get an air search of the area in question going," Roberts called as he headed off to get things moving.

"I wish we had the Flying Sub with us," Lee murmured.

"It would make too much noise, Lee. DeJean would know he was made."

"I know, Chip. I'm just so frustrated. You know what he's doing to the admiral, don't you? He's using that blasted drug on him!" he snapped, remembering what he'd read of DeJean's notes as well as what the admiral had told him. How could someone want to create a drug that would do to another human being what that drug was designed for? How?

"We don't know for sure DeJean is using it on him, Lee. Besides, the admiral's resourceful. He may have gotten away."

"Do you believe that? Really?" Lee asked as he stared hard at Chip who dropped his eyes from Lee's pleading ones, before looking away and watching as Roberts walked back to them.

"I contacted the rangers at the park. Just as I was afraid, they're stretched thin but the few rangers still there have been alerted. They're starting a search now. They suggested you head to a ranger station here at Cedar Creek and check in with the ranger there who has already put out feelers for information to the few locals he knows. He'll have some topographical maps for you. I called in a local search and rescue group. They'll be on the way shortly. If your admiral's anywhere in this area, they'll find him."

"Someone has to," Lee muttered. "Soon."

"We should head out," Chip said eager to get moving.

"One thing, gentlemen. You might want to dress in something other than those uniforms. This DeJean or anyone he has working for him sees you in those uniforms, he's gonna bolt."

"You're right," Lee agreed. "But we don't exactly have time to go shopping."

"I can take care of that," Roberts grinned as he walked off to Benji, explaining the situation to him. Shrugging, he went into his house, Roberts by his side, and returned with two clean t-shirts which he handed to the two _Seaview_ officers. "He's very eager to help all of the sudden."

Lee snorted. "I bet. The prospect of being charged with accessory to murder seems to have helped."

The two men dressed quickly in the shirts, got in the truck and headed out, hoping they found the admiral quickly.

~O~

Tucked away in a lonely canyon west of Anza Borrego, DeJean's cabin was perfectly hidden. Its drab colorless walls blended perfectly with the characterless sand surrounding it. Pacing back and forth on the decrepit porch of the cabin, DeJean anxiously awaited his prisoner's return to consciousness. Each shot took longer and longer to wear off and left Nelson with less and less strength, making his screams less satisfying for him.

Speaking almost mechanically into a microphone attached to a recorder he carried as he walked, DeJean dispassionately documented all the effects the drug he had developed brought forth from his prisoner. Someday when he had access to a real lab again, he would be able to reproduce the findings or fine-tune the measurements to produce a stronger version, although he felt quite certain, no one would be able to withstand a stronger dose. Nelson had survived five shots, two more than he had anticipated. More and more time was spent allowing his prisoner the chance to recover somewhat before he administered another dose. But he was rapidly finding it less satisfying as Nelson's strength dwindled, his faculties clouded. How much of Nelson's mind was left he didn't know. All his testing had been done on monkeys and no matter how close to a human's brain they may be, they couldn't compare to the great Nelson's.

He smiled as he thought of Admiral Harriman Nelson being left a vegetable, all courtesy of the drug he had so mistakenly believed had been confiscated.

But what to do now? Nelson's strength waned and he was less and less aware of what was going on about him, taking the fun out of the torture. If he were smart, he would leave Nelson here, take what he had left from his drug lab and flee to Mexico where he could sell off his stock and invest the profits into a new lab where he would modify his creations. But his desire for revenge on the man that had cost him so much still burned hot and bright.

Seating himself on the only piece of furniture on the porch, he reached for the black briefcase he had at the last moment taken from Nelson's boat. Hoping he had brought something along others might find valuable, he had been disgusted to find budget reviews and a few minor research proposals. Picking them up, he glanced through them again and finding nothing of value tossed them up in the air, smiling slightly as a brief, furnace-like wind caught them and blew them off into the dusty, brilliant blue sky.

Rising, he watched the dust settle, the pages making a sojourn of their own out into the desert. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it had been long enough since the last injection and he felt sure his prisoner must be ready for more. With a little smile, he headed inside.

"Harry? Are you done sleeping yet?" he called out.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the dim interior, but he saw a slight movement on the far side of the room, heard a brief gasp of pain and he knew Harry was awake. With a little laugh, he opened the cooler, took out another vial and walked slowly across the room, grinning at the blank look on Nelson's bruised and battered face.

"Ready for another? Of course you are. I'm so glad you're helping me with this research project. The monkeys weren't as helpful as you've been, Harry. Someday, with the help you've provided, I'll fine-tune this mixture so it causes even more pain than what it does now but perhaps without the damaging side effects you're experiencing. Won't that be something to see? Oh…sorry…you'll be dead, won't you? But not just yet," he said in a sing song voice as he knelt by Nelson's side. "Any last words? No? Well, let's see if you survive this shot. Shall we?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 _Sorry for the late post! I lost all control of the day._

Chip drove rapidly towards the isolated ranger station near Cedar Creek where they hoped to meet up with some of the rangers. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought of all that had happened over the course of the last few days. Going from abject sorrow as they'd realized they weren't going to find the admiral alive to the hope the Gathers had given them to this had been a long roller coaster of a ride for his…their…emotions.

As hard as the past days had been for him, he knew Lee was experiencing it a hundred times more, certain that Lee felt responsible for the admiral's decision to go off by himself for awhile. The argument and all the harsh words he'd leveled at Nelson probably replayed over and over in his mind as each minute went by. Telling him it wasn't his fault was like telling the wind not to blow: it wasn't going to happen.

Finding the silence in the truck almost unbearable, Chip cleared his throat. "Lee?"

"Yeah," he answered with a grunt.

"I've been thinking and, well, we don't know for certain that DeJean is giving the admiral that drug. I mean just because he had some left..."

"Oh, I know, Chip. I keep telling myself that. Maybe he didn't take it with him. Maybe he isn't using it on him. Maybe he wants to save what he has to sell to these buyers of his."

"But?"

Shaking his head, he looked out the window and whispered. "But I know he's giving it to him. It makes sense. He hates the admiral. I wish to God he wasn't using it on him. I wish I had one spark of hope that he isn't but, I don't."

"I don't really know a lot about this drug. I know it isn't something you want to think about but, what is it? What does it do? Did the admiral tell you anything?"

Lee closed his eyes as he remembered Nelson's shock at finding a laboratory on his Institute grounds producing a drug for sale: a drug that would cause horrible, intense pain.

"He didn't tell me much, Chip. I think he was embarrassed he hadn't seen it. DeJean was a friend," he shrugged. "He didn't want to believe it was happening but when he saw the evidence…It was like a mask came down over his face."

"He felt betrayed," Chip said simply.

"Yeah, he did. But he was horrified when he looked over DeJean's notes. What kind of man could design a drug that caused such profound pain? He was supposed to be working on pain _relieving_ drugs. That's what the grant was for. He took the money and developed this…this…horror," he said, his voice breaking as he remembered what DeJean's research had stated:

" _Subjects responded appropriately to the injections. Pain was almost instantaneous and intense. Each subsequent injection produced the same level of pain although the fear magnified dramatically. Subsequent to the third shot, the subject's minds had deteriorated to the point euthanasia seemed to be the most humane option."_

Closing his eyes, Lee tried hard not to imagine the pain the admiral was experiencing, if DeJean was indeed giving him the drug, and prayed they would reach him in time before his mind was destroyed.

"Lee, look…up ahead," Chip called interrupting Lee's dark thoughts. "There's the ranger station."

Pulling to a stop outside the small station that was practically built into the side of the surrounding hill, the two men jumped out and were met almost immediately by a tall, sandy-haired ranger.

"Crane? Morton? My name's Aaron Springer," he greeted as he shook both men's hands briefly. "I was told by Officer Roberts you two would be coming. I'm sorry about Admiral Nelson. If he's being held somewhere in or near the park, he isn't going to be easy to find. Most of the park is wilderness. Many of the roads are off road only. That goes for the area around Cienega too"

"We know. We still have to look. We have men coming in from Santa Barbara. They're coming into the park from the north.

"Most of the northern part of the park is in fire watch and there's a pretty good fire around the Puma Canyon area. Most of the rangers are up there along with a few hot shot crews. If they were up there, I hate to say it but they probably aren't any more."

Crane clenched his jaw in frustration as he listened to the young ranger. "We'll find him. And I don't think they're in the north for some reason."

"I hope you're right. Your best bet if they're still around here is down this road here," he said pulling a large topographical map out and laying it on the hot hood of Chip's truck. "Follow it south. It's four-wheel drive only and I use the word road loosely. It's sand pure and simple. But it is drivable. Here are some radios tuned to the park frequency. If you find anything, sing out. Can't say we can get there quickly but we'll do our best. I can relay out any info you need if you find anything or need something. San Diego County Office of Search and Rescue has already started flyovers as discreetly as they can. Hopefully your suspect will think they're part of the fire team. Also, there are a few teams from San Diego SAR headed in on foot in this area of the park in the Carrizo Badlands and a few on horseback here, in the Granite Mountains," he continued, pointing to sections of the park. "More crews are looking west of the park".

"Thanks," Lee said quietly as he took the topo map and folded it to the area they were headed for. "We'll keep in touch."

"Crane?" Springer called as Lee started back inside the truck. "Good luck. Admiral Nelson has done so much I…well, I wish I could go out myself but I'm the only one left here."

"I understand. We'll find him."

"Are there any stores around?" Chip asked suddenly. "Any place to get gas?"

"If you need gas you can fill up behind the station over there," Springer offered, pointing to a small one pump station on the other side of the road. "It's for park use only usually but feel free to fill up."

"Thanks," Chip said. "But I mean in this area we're headed to. Any place DeJean might have gotten gas."

"Yeah, there is," Springer said after a moment's contemplation. "I should have thought of that. Let me see that map. Here, just outside what passes for the town of Cienega, there's a small grocery and gas station. Has one pump. Run by a guy by the name of Casey Blanton. Tall, huge guy."

"Trustworthy?" Lee asked.

"Not in the least. Tell him Aaron said I'll kick his butt from here to Mexico if he messes with you though."

"Thanks," Lee said again as he climbed inside the big truck.

"Might as well get gassed up down at this Cienega, Lee. Ask this Blanton guy about DeJean."

"Good idea," Lee agreed as he sat with the map on his lap looking forlornly at the wide open spaces of nothing, feeling a niggling of stark fear for the admiral fill him. "Let's go."

Chip started the truck and headed quickly towards the cut off for the "road" south. When they got to the turnoff, Chip stopped. "Are you sure this is the road?"

Lee looked at the track of sand that followed the base of a wash off into the distance, then looked down at the map. "This is it," he said shaking his head.

"Hold on. It's gonna be a bumpy ride," Chip said as he put the big truck in gear and headed down the road.

For more than an hour they drove slowly, careful to avoid the largest bumps and rocks on the track. When they crested a hill, off in the distance they could see a shimmer as if light was reflecting off something shiny.

"Cienega?" Chip asked.

"Has to be. Come on."

After an exciting drive down the road, they pulled up to the gas pumps and sighed. "This would have been easier and so much more fun in a dune buggy," Chip said as he got out of the truck and stretched.

"That's the way most people get here," a voice behind them said.

Turning, they saw a big man with long, stingy black hair blowing wildly in the furnace-like air that wafted over them come out from behind the station, wiping his greasy hands on a less than clean rag.

"Can I help ya?" he asked in a harsh manner.

"Yeah, we need some gas," Chip said.

"Sure," he said as he started to pump the truck full. "Where you two off to? You ain't dressed like no tourists."

"We're not," Lee replied carefully watching the big man closely. "We're looking for someone."

"Oh? Ain't no one out here right now. 'Cept me that is. Too hot for most tourists. Well, them that got sense anyway."

"We're looking for Charles DeJean or a John Charles," Lee replied quietly, smiling when he saw Blanton glance up in surprise before looking down quickly.

"Don't know either man," he answered as he finished pumping the gas.

"I think you're lying," Lee all but growled as he watched Chip come to stand behind Blanton.

"You're callin' me a liar? Why I'll bust you one, mister," he bellowed as he took a swing at Lee who ducked. Chip wrapped his arms about Blanton and held on for all he was worth.

"All we want to do is talk," Chip said.

"I ain't got nuthin' to say."

"Ranger Springer warned us you might be a bit hesitant to help us. He said to tell you he'll kick your sorry butt all the way to Mexico if you lie to us."

At that Blanton seemed to deflate. "I…I don't want no trouble. I got a family. I need this worthless piece of real estate."

"Then help us. You know who we're looking for, don't you?" Chip asked as he loosened his hold on Blanton.

"He...he ain't the nicest man."

"No, he isn't. Help us and I'll make sure Springer knows you helped us."

Blanton shook his head slowly, fear clouding his face. "What do you want to know?" he muttered listlessly after a few minutes of internal debate.

"When did you see him last?" Lee asked.

"A few days ago. He came here for a newspaper. Seemed giddy about the headline for some reason."

"Headline?" he asked.

"Yeah. It was about that admiral guy. The one they said died."

"Nelson?" Chip supplied.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Had you seen DeJean or Charles, or whatever name he's going by, before?" Lee asked.

"Few days before that, he came here. Stopped for gas. We talked a bit."

"Do you know where he went?" Lee asked; hope filling him that they were close.

Blanton shook his head slowly.

"Think, Casey. It's important."

"I…I don't know where he went."

Lee sighed dramatically. "Guess we'll have to tell Springer you aren't cooperating," he said as he pulled out the walkie-talkie Springer had given him.

"Wait! I…all right. He came here. Said he needed a place to stay for awhile. Some place out of the way. Far out of the way. Away from roads or trails. Remote. I have a cabin I use sometimes. Off the trail a ways. I rented it to him."

"Where?" Lee asked quietly.

Blanton lowered his head and sighed. "Got a map?"

Chip pulled the map Springer had given them from the truck and laid it out on the hood.

"Here," Blanton said, pointing to a spot on the map. "Go five miles down this way. Then veer to your left when you see a large rock shaped like half a pine tree…pointy on top. You'll know the one. Go off trail and head directly southeast for six more miles. You'll round a bend around a rock wall. The cabin sits there. And that's all I know!"

"Does he have any way to communicate with you?" Crane asked.

"Don't got phones out there," he answered after a minute.

"Did he have anyone with him?" Chip asked.

"No. He was alone. Had a lot of camping stuff in the back of his truck. That's all I saw."

"If I find out you're lying, I'll be back. And very angry," Lee promised. "Come on Chip."

"Hey! You owe me for the gas!"

Chip reached into his pocket, grabbed some money and stuffed it in Blanton's shirt pocket then jumped into the truck and headed off.

Blanton stared after them for a bit rubbing his arms ruefully then with a clenched jaw headed inside his "office" to a small radio and flipped it on.

"DeJean? This is Blanton. Come in. I got news for you."

He waited for a few minutes until he heard DeJean answer. "What is it? You aren't supposed to call me," he replied angrily.

"I thought you might like to know a couple fellas were here looking for you."

"Who?"

"Don't know. Wanted to know if I seen you. Knew your name."

"Describe them," DeJean ordered in a hard tone.

"One was black-haired. Curly. The other was blond."

"And what did you tell them?"

"I…I had to tell them where you were. They threatened me. I don't need no trouble."

"And all the money I gave you to keep quiet means nothing?!" DeJean shouted angrily.

"I told you, I gotta live here. I don't need the park rangers or the cops on my case or I'll lose everything!" Blanton whined. "I got a family to think about! My suggestion is you clear out. I told them a roundabout way to get to the cabin. You have time to get away."

DeJean was silent for a bit. "I guess I'll have to change my plans," he muttered thoughtfully

"What exactly are you doin' out there and who were these guys?"

"None of your concern. Just try to keep your mouth shut. I'll take care of things here," he growled as he flipped the transmitter off and looked about the sparse cabin trying to plan what his next move would be.

Glancing to the far wall, he watched as Nelson writhed spastically in agony. The drug was still effective but the cries were lessening as Nelson sank lower. As he watched, Nelson's body stilled and he let out a huge sigh as if giving up. He walked to him and stared down, the man's broad chest barely rising and falling. Reaching down he felt Nelson's pulse and cursed as he felt it begin to slow down. Slapping him produced no response and angered, he continued to rain punches and kicks down on the unconscious man. Whereas before the attack would have produced some response, usually long wavering moans, Nelson remained silent and still as if he couldn't feel the agony of the attack.

Rising, DeJean stared about the ramshackle cabin. Nelson's mind appeared gone and with his two loyal friends apparently on their way to finding him, he needed to be away from here. But should he take the man responsible for his current situation or leave him behind? The thought of Crane and Morton seeing their beloved boss and friend in the condition he was now made him giddy with joy. No…no he had a better idea.

Hurriedly, he packed up his meager belongings, carrying them to the truck and stowing them in the bed then gathered up the cooler with his drugs inside and packed that away.

Walking back inside, he stared at Nelson with hatred. "Our time together is at an end but I'm going to make your last minutes as painful as I can," he promised as he stalked outside the hut and went to his truck, grabbed a container of gas from the back and went back inside.

"I've got something for you, Harry. A new surprise. I've decided you aren't any fun any more what with your mind being addled by my lovely drug so I'm leaving you here. Isn't that nice of me? But I can't leave you alive. No, that would not be good. Don't want to risk that you're not really gone in the head, do I? So, a nice bonfire is what I think you deserve."

Sauntering slowly back to Harry, he grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up. "I want you awake to see this," he yelled angrily as he backhanded Nelson who continued to show no sign of consciousness. "You're taking all the fun out of this last scene to be played out between us, Harry. Wake up!" But despite the kicks and slaps, Nelson remained unaware.

Looking to his watch, he knew he needed to act quickly. Too much time had elapsed and the two _Seaview_ officers would be here shortly. And what would they see? The place they felt sure their friend was in, going up in flames. He really wished he could stick around and see their anguish and feel their pain but he had places he needed to go now that vengeance had been waged on the man that had cost him so much.

Thrusting Harry away from him, he picked up the gas can and began to pour gasoline on the bone dry floor a few feet in front of the comatose Nelson. "Don't want it over too soon now do we? In case there's a part of you that's still aware, I want you to know what's coming."

He continued to spread the gas throughout the cabin before soaking the small porch with the flammable liquid. Smiling, he threw the empty gas can back inside the cabin and gazed at his captive for a long moment. Stepping away from the gasoline soaked hut, he lit a match, and threw it on the soaked wood, grinning at the whoosh as the wood erupted in flames.

"So long, Harry! Die well!" he called, saluting him briefly before running to his truck, and taking off down the sandy road towards the southern border…and Mexico.

Inside the hut, Nelson struggled to regain some semblance of consciousness, the slaps having had more effect on him than DeJean realized. He'd heard the words, felt the slaps and kicks but had no strength to respond. With no idea where he was, how he got where he was or why, he felt an overwhelming sense of fear and panic envelop him. Struggling, he managed to sit up and fought to open his eyes. However, only one seemed to respond and that one was blurry with what felt like hot needles poking it. Before him though he saw the most incredible colors dancing in front of his face and he was amazed at their beauty. Red, yellow and blue lights undulated just in front of him making the most fascinating patterns.

With a smile, he leaned out to touch one of the dancing lights and was surprised to find his hands tied together. Looking from his bound hands to high above him, he was barely able to see a rope attached to the ceiling, more dancing colors and shapes moving along it. With a sudden snap, the fire-scorched rope gave way and he collapsed onto the dirty floor. Lying on his side, he reached his hands out to the wavering colors dancing in front of him, and cried out as he felt searing pain, its intensity so strong his awareness began to return.

"Fire," he whispered, coughing uncontrollably as smoke from the burning hut filled his lungs. "I…need to get out of here. How?"

Off to his right he spotted hazy sunlight streaming through the smoky interior of wherever he was and he began to crawl towards it, every inch he moved filling him with indescribable agony. But the window and the safety that called to him were so far away and he began to feel his strength ebbing. _So far away_ , he thought as he felt himself slipping back to unconsciousness. His last thoughts were of the death that awaited him as the flames drew closer.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Lee and Chip drove as fast as they could down the wash, hoping with everything they had they weren't too late. They rounded the far end of the rock wall Blanton had described and Chip slammed the brakes on, despair filling him as he stared open-mouthed at the house before them that was fully engulfed in flames.

"Oh my God…no. Admiral!"

Before he could stop him, Lee flung the truck door open and raced towards the burning structure. Throwing his door open as quickly as he could, Chip sprinted off after him, tackling him before he could reach the blaze.

"What do you think you're doing?" Chip yelled angrily. "You can't help him! It's too late!"

Lee threw Chip off him and knelt in the hot sand staring at the flames that shot into the air. "No…Admiral," he whispered in a pain-choked voice. "We're too late. I'm so sorry."

"Lee, we don't know for sure he was in there. We don't even know for sure this was the house Blanton meant. There were so many twists and turns, we could have gotten lost."

Lee's gaze shot to Chip who stared unblinking at the house, horror mixed with sorrow written plainly on his face, and knew even he didn't believe what he'd said.

Beyond him slightly a piece of paper drew Lee's attention. Clinging to the rock wall as if it dared the wind to carry it away, the paper fluttered in the scorching wind. Standing, Lee walked to it, picked it up and read what was on the paper slowly, the color draining from his face as he handed it to Chip.

"He was here," he confirmed in a deadly quiet tone as he tried hard not to imagine the pain the admiral had been in, before and when he'd died in one of the worst ways imaginable.

Chip took the paper and read the header aloud: " _Grant Proposal # 17993 -_ _Evaluating the biological effectiveness of fully and partially protected marine areas"._

Dropping his arm, he stared at the house in horror as the roof collapsed sending a shower of flames and embers into the sky. Lee stood watching what he knew was the admiral's death and felt a hole inside him open once more.

Rising slowly, Chip walked to Lee's side, knowing he should say something but finding nothing adequate for what they were experiencing. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he turned back to the house, feeling in some way their mere presence validated their true feelings for the man they were sure was inside, as if watching the house burn, they could somehow share in the man's death.

A flash of color on the drab dune behind the house suddenly caught Chip's eye when a gust of wind whipped the smoke away and he grabbed Lee's arm. "Look. Behind the house. What is that?" he asked before taking off at a run, Lee on his heels.

The two officers raced to the far side of the house, shying away from the intense heat from the burning building and stopped, staring in amazement. Curled into a ball on the sand was the unconscious form of Admiral Harriman Nelson, his hands tied tightly in front of him.

Dropping to his side, the stunned men turned him over gently, gasping as they saw the damage that had been done. Bruises stood out in stark contrast to the paleness of his face that was marred with numerous cuts while burns, already blistering in spots, covered his hands, arms and legs. One eye was completely swollen shut while the other seemed only marginally better.

"Oh, Admiral," Lee whispered in anguish, his hands searching for a pulse, sighing in relief as he felt the slight beat beneath his fingers. "He's alive but he's burning up, Chip."

"I'll get some water from the truck."

As Chip sprinted away, Lee grabbed his pocketknife and sawed through the thick rope that bound the admiral's hands, flinching at the raw, open wounds underneath.

"I'm sorry, Admiral. I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you. I wish I could take it back. You have to be all right. I need to make sure you know I'm sorry. Please. Don't die," he pleaded as he worked. "Please.

Chip raced back with a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap and proceeded to drop water into the parched man's mouth, frustrated when most of it trickled out.

"Here, Lee. Keep trying to get some of this into him. I need to contact the search teams and get a medevac here."

"Chip," he called before he could race off.

"Yeah?"

Turning Nelson's right arm over gently, he pointed to the row of small puncture wounds on the inside of his arm. "He used it on him," he muttered in a tone of voice Chip had never heard before, his blood chilling at what it promised to the man responsible for the admiral's condition. "I want DeJean."

"I'm going to climb that hill there," Chip muttered, his heart aching as he stared at the line of marks on the admiral's arm. "See if I can spot DeJean so I have some clue which way to send the search teams."

Lee made no move to show he heard as he continued to dribble water in the admiral's mouth, pleased when he swallowed some. "That's it, Admiral. Drink. There's plenty of water for you. You can have all you want. You're safe now."

Chip climbed the small sandy hill as quickly as he could after grabbing the radio from the truck and stared off to the south, watching as a rooster tail of dust rose from the parched land.

"Morton to Ranger Springer. Come in."

"This is Springer. Tell me you have good news."

"We found Admiral Nelson. It looks like he's hurt badly. He's been beaten and he has multiple burns. He needs medical transport fast. We're at Casey Blanton's cabin about thirty miles south off Pinzon Pines Road by Jolla Wash. The cabin is on fire so have the teams look for the smoke plumes. Our suspect is headed south. Request you send teams to intercept."

"Roger that. Teams on the way," Springer responded. "I'll alert SAR as to your location. Helicopter transport should be at your location in about fifteen, twenty minutes. Hold on."

"Springer? You may want to have a talk with Blanton. I think he may have alerted DeJean to our coming."

In the background, Chip heard a loud, deep sigh come from the ranger before he said, "Copy that. I'll deal with him when I can."

Satisfied he had done all he could, Chip grabbed a first aid kit from the back of his truck and raced back to find Lee talking softly to Nelson.

"Don't give up. Just hang on. Hang on. OK? Take some more water," he whispered.

"Lee? DeJean's headed south, probably towards Mexico. I got in contact with Springer. He's sending the search teams down that way to intercept him. SAR will be here with a helicopter in a few minutes," he said as he opened the small first aid kit and looked for something in it to help Nelson. Frustrated he slammed it down against the sand. "There isn't a thing in here to help him!"

Shocked, Lee looked up into Chip's normally expressionless face and flinched at the pain, the helplessness plainly written there. "Easy Chip. We can't give up."

Ashamed at his outburst, he scowled, unable to look his friend in the eye. "Sorry…I just…I don't know how to help him."

"I know. Believe me. I know," he replied softly then noticed the radio by Chip's side. "Get in touch with Springer again and have him contact Sharkey up north. Tell him to have him and anyone he brought to head back to the Institute. There's no reason for them to stick around here. And have him get in contact with Angie. Tell her to get the files from the admiral's office about DeJean's drug. She'll know where he put them. Then have her call Jamieson, give him the files and have her find someone to fly Jamie and the files to San Diego in the Flying Sub. The admiral will probably be flown to the naval hospital there."

"You think there may be something in the files that will help him?"

"I don't know. But it can't hurt to have them. They may give Jamie an idea how to treat the admiral."

"All right," Chip agreed as he walked a short distance away and made the call to Springer.

Lee listened to the conversation between Chip and Springer as he continued to trickle water into Nelson's mouth, frustrated that he wasn't drinking more than he was. Taking a roll of gauze from the first aid kit he wetted it thoroughly and gently dabbed it on the bruises and cuts on the admiral's face then took more and washed the raw wounds on his wrists, flinching as he tried not to think of the agony the man must have been in to have caused such injuries.

"Springer contacted Sharkey," Chip said after a few minutes. "He wanted to rush down here."

"Are he and the men going back to the Institute?"

"Knowing Sharkey and the men, they're on their way to San Diego," he replied with a small smile that turned to worry as he watched Nelson's still form.

"Chip, do you have more water in the truck?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I have more."

"Get it. We can bathe the burns and cuts at least."

"I'll be right back," he said as he rose and raced off to his truck. Rummaging around in his truck, he grabbed three bottles of ice water from a cooler in the back then reached for a blanket rolled up in a ball nearby and raced back.

"Here's some more water and a blanket. Maybe we should get him onto the blanket to keep him off the hot sand."

"Good idea, Chip," Lee agreed as he poured more water into Nelson's mouth, happy he seemed to be drinking what little managed to stay in his mouth now. "Lay the blanket beside him and we'll move him over to it."

Chip placed the blanket by Nelson's side and the two men reached out to take hold of their boss. Their hands under Nelson, they began to move him as gently as they could to the coolness of the blanket when he let out a low wavering moan causing both men to stop what they were doing.

"Damn. The drug. He must be in such pain," Lee whispered horrified.

"The sand's too hot, Lee. We need to move him off it or he'll have more burns."

"I know. Let's try again. Slowly."

Together they managed to move Nelson to the blanket without too much added pain and continued to bathe the burns on his hands and legs with some of the cool water.

"Some of these burns look bad, Lee," Chip said as he examined the patches of burned skin on his hands.

"I know," Lee answered softly as he did what he could for the burns. "I can't imagine the pain he was in. These burns alone would hurt terribly but with that drug in his system? I don't want to think about how much pain he was in. _Is_ in."

At that moment, Chip cocked his head listening. "'Copter's coming. Won't be long now. He'll be in the hospital shortly."

Lee looked up to see the helicopter heading directly towards them, knowing the plume of smoke from the still smoldering remains of the cabin were a telltale sign for the crew to hone in on.

When it was almost on them, the rotor wash from the blades sent stinging sand in their direction and both men leaned protectively over the admiral's prostrate form, protecting him from as much of the sand as they could.

The helicopter pilot shut the engines down as quickly as he could and two men jumped from the back and raced towards them.

"Thanks for getting here so quickly," Lee shouted as he moved out of the way of the medical team who knelt quickly by Nelson's side, cataloguing his injuries and taking his vitals.

"Pulse is rapid. His heartbeat's erratic. He's burning up. Looks like he was beaten pretty badly. He's severely dehydrated," one of the med team reported quietly as he assessed the admiral's condition swiftly. "He's got some nasty burns here. Mostly first and second degree, but these on his hands and a few on his arms might be third degree."

After a few more minutes he continued, "Definitely has a concussion and some broken ribs, too. Can't tell how badly his eyes are hurt. Swollen for sure. Hopefully, the damage is superficial. We need to move him but first we need to set up an IV and get some fluids in him to try to mitigate the effects of the dehydration. Don't know if the fever he has is from the dehydration or all these injuries. We have cool packs onboard. We'll pack him in them, then start him on some morphine and…"

"I'm not sure any painkillers are a good idea. Or any drug," Lee interrupted, his eyes never leaving Nelson as the med tech began to start an IV.

"What? Why not? Do you have any idea how much pain he's in?" he asked as he started the IV drip.

"I have a pretty good idea," Lee answered quietly. "But he was injected with some kind of pain producing or enhancing drug. I'm not sure what effect morphine or any drug will have on him. A doctor from the Institute should be on his way to San Diego with a file on this drug that hopefully will help the doctors treat him."

"Who the hell would manufacture a drug that _causes_ pain?' the man asked as he turned back to Nelson who was moaning softly. "Or do all that's been done to him for that matter."

"A man I'm going to enjoy beating."

The med tech looked up in surprise at the anger he heard in Lee's voice then back down as he continued to cleanse Nelson's wounds gently. "This Institute…you mean the Nelson Institute?"

"Yeah. The Institute doctor should be in San Diego soon…maybe before you get there. I want him taken to the Naval Medical Center in San Diego."

"That's where we were headed. NMCSD has already been notified we're on our way and who the patient is. I'll inform them what you told me about the drug and to wait for the info. Now let's get him on the basket and get him out of here."

"Wait a minute," Lee called as he leaned over Nelson and whispered. "You hang on, sir. We have some talking to do when you're better but right now you just need to get well. Just don't let him win."

Lee stared down in guilt and sadness at Nelson who remained still, then nodded quickly to the others. Together the four men picked Nelson up gently and placed him in the basket. A light blanket was placed over him and he was strapped in then picked up and carried quickly to the waiting helicopter where he was placed inside.

"Sorry but there's no room for passengers."

Lee looked inside at Nelson and felt his heart break. What if he died before he could get to the hospital? What if…?

"That's all right," he heard Chip say as he placed a comforting hand on Lee's shoulder. "Just take care of him. We'll get to the hospital when we can."

Both men stepped back as the helicopter pilot restarted the engines, throwing up sand and dirt in the air. The two _Seaview_ officers shielded their faces as well as they could and watched as the helicopter took off and sped the admiral to San Diego and badly needed medical attention.

"Come on, Chip. Let's get moving," Lee ordered, his voice hard.

"Where to?" Chip asked as he ran to catch up to Crane who was headed for his truck.

"We're going after DeJean," he answered, jumping in the passenger seat and grabbing the radio from Chip when he'd seated himself inside.

"Springer? This is Crane. Come in."

"Crane? I heard the chopper is on its way to San Diego. How's Admiral Nelson?"

"Alive. But he's hurt pretty badly. What's happening with DeJean?"

"He slipped past two blockades. Last sighting still had him heading south. Air support's having trouble finding him. He may be hunkered down in one of the side canyons down there."

"Damn. He can't get away!" Crane said angrily.

"He won't. Border Patrol has been notified to be on the lookout. They'll catch him if he heads their way."

"They'd better. I want this guy to pay for what he did."

"Sorry, Crane. This guy sounds like a real piece of work," Springer said.

"Yeah," Lee murmured as he remembered his last sight of the admiral. The bruises and the burns that marked his body tore at his heart as he knew they were there because he hadn't been there to protect him. DeJean had been the purveyor of pain but he was the instrument DeJean had used. He was the reason he'd been able to get to the admiral and he knew without a doubt if Nelson died, he'd never be able to live with it.

"I thought you might want to know I heard from the Institute…a Miss Wood? She said to tell you Dr. Jamieson is on his way in the Flying Sub with the notes on this drug. He'll be there shortly."

"Thanks, Springer."

"My suggestion is you head back down the road you came in on and make a left at the next road. Follow it south until you get to a paved road and continue south."

"Where exactly are we headed?" Lee asked as he followed the route Springer had given him.

"I have a sneaking suspicion your guy is hiding in one of the side canyons south of you in the Box Canyon area. I have flyovers on the way to that area. Should be any time now. Once they pinpoint where he's hiding, I'll radio you."

"OK. I found Box Canyon on the map. We're headed out now. Thanks, Springer."

"No thanks are necessary. From what you've said, this guy's needs to be in jail."

"Yeah. Jail is the better option for him. Either way, he's going to pay for what he did to the admiral," Lee replied, his voice emotionless.

"Be careful. I don't want to have to tell that sweet Miss Wood you two are joining Admiral Nelson in the hospital. Or have to tell her you're both in jail."

Lee laughed briefly. "She would not take either scenario well."

"Be smart when you find him."

"Copy that," Lee replied firmly.

Chip's truck bounced mercilessly as they headed up the wash towards the main road. After a few minutes of driving, they came to what passed for a road and turned on it heading south.

"You know Lee that Blanton sent us the long way to the cabin. Going down Pinzon Pines Road was way out of the way."

"Yeah. He gave DeJean enough time to set the fire and get out. When I'm done with DeJean, I'm going after Blanton."

A few more minutes passed until they heard Springer's voice on the radio calling them.

"Morton? Crane? A SAR flight spotted a truck matching DeJean's in a canyon off Carrizo Canyon Road about ten miles south of where you are. Head south from Blanton's and you'll see a turn off for the road. He's sitting off the road on the right about two miles in. I have some ground units moving your way now but it will be about an hour until they can get to the area. We're losing light fast. It might be too dark to see by then."

Lee looked to his watch, surprised at how late it had gotten. "An hour? I don't want to wait that long. Like you said, it's getting dark fast. He could slip away. We'll try to stop him," Lee replied firmly.

"I don't like the idea of you two taking this guy on. Do you at least have any guns with you?"

Lee glanced to Chip who shook his head. "No, but we'll be fine. We've been in more than a few fights in our time."

"I hear you. Don't let him get the jump on you. I'll notify the SAR flight to keep a lookout on our guy. If he bolts, I'll let you know."

"Thanks. We'll let you know what happens."

"Copy that. Springer out."

"How do you want to do this?" Chip asked as he headed down the road. "We can't just go wandering down the road."

"No, we can't," Lee answered lost in thought. "He said he was about two miles back. Let's head in and see what we can. Maybe an idea will come to us. Stop when we're a mile and a half in. And take it slow. The last thing we need is a dust trail for him to see."

Chip took the truck slowly down the rutted road; happy it was more rock than sand and created less dust. When they were about a mile and a half down the trail, Chip pulled off the road a bit and turned off the engine.

"Well, it's a lovely area isn't it?" he asked. "Nothing but rocks and sand and spindly little cacti."

Lee snorted. "Yeah. Nothing like the ocean we're used to but I bet the admiral would find…he'd find something beautiful or…or…interesting about it," he said, stumbling over the words when he pictured the admiral lying on the desert sand, unconscious, bruised and still.

"He'll make it, Lee. It's the admiral," Chip said staring at him closely, knowing by the change in his voice where his thoughts had gone.

"Yeah. I know."

"So any ideas?" Chip asked as he examined the area they were in. A rock wall to the right of them ran the length of the road while a steep gorge dotted with nasty looking cacti took up the left side.

Lee sat in thought examining the area. "I'm going to climb that rock wall there. When I'm at the top, I'll see if I can spot DeJean. If I do, I'll signal you. Give me about ten minutes to get close enough then you start the truck and make your way down to where he is."

"And then what?"

"I jump him."

"You…you jump him. That's it?"

"Pretty much. You coming down the road should be enough of a distraction. He'll never know I'm behind him."

"Lee, I know you want DeJean as badly as I do but…"

"No, no buts, Chip. I don't want him getting away. He's going to pay for what he did to the admiral!"

Chip sat for a minute staring out the window of his truck. "All right. Let's do this," he agreed finally. "Just be careful. He may have a gun or two in there."

"You be careful, too," Lee replied as he climbed from the truck. "Remember, give me ten minutes after I reach the top then gun it."

"Got it."

Lee got out of the truck and climbed the rocky slope as quickly as he could, picking his way carefully up the hill. When he was at the top he gazed in the direction DeJean should have been. A small speck of red could be seen about a half mile up the road tucked into a natural alcove. Looking down, he signaled that DeJean was ahead then began crawling towards him along the wall.

Chip watched Lee inch his way down towards DeJean and gave him a few minutes then started the truck and moved cautiously towards where DeJean was parked. When he got close, he looked to the top of the wall and saw Lee motioning to him that DeJean was right below him. Gunning the motor he shot down the road, sliding to a stop at the entrance of the small side canyon DeJean was parked in and surprising him. At the same time, Lee jumped from the wall into the bed of DeJean's truck, landing heavily amongst the clutter in the back, glancing down briefly at the vials that scattered across the bed of the truck.

DeJean jumped from the truck and tried to run but Chip caught him and landed an upper cut to his jaw sending him back against the wall, his mouth bleeding.

"Wait…wait!" DeJean yelled, holding his hands up in front of him when Chip and Lee began to advance on him. "I…I'll deal you both into my operation! Nelson didn't want anything to do with it but you two can make more money than…"

Before he finished his offer, Lee landed a blistering punch to DeJean's face then doubled him over with a powerful punch to his soft belly. Before he could stand upright, he added an uppercut to his chin, throwing him back into the jagged rock wall and sank to the ground. Towering over him, Lee snarled, "Shut up. After what you did, I'm thinking jail time is too good for you. In fact, I have a better idea," he added as he walked to the back of the truck and rummaged around inside coming out with a vial and a syringe which he proceeded to fill.

"What…what are you doing? You…you wouldn't…wouldn't give me…"

"Why not? Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you full of this! I think you should experience this just as the admiral did, don't you? Then you'll know how much pain it can cause. Research right?" Crane snapped derisively, a look of intense hatred on his face.

"No, please," DeJean begged, shaking in terror.

"Lee," Chip whispered, horrified at what Lee was about to do. "Don't do this."

"Why not? You saw what he did to the admiral!"

"I did but…you can't do this! You _know_ the admiral wouldn't want this!"

"How do we know that" Lee snarled as he advanced on the helpless DeJean. "We may never know what he would think. He may never think again. All because of him!"

"Wait…he's…he's still alive? He can't be. I…"

"You what? Made sure he couldn't get out? Made sure he'd burn to death?" Lee asked menacingly.

"I…I…Please," DeJean begged as Lee walked closer. "Don't…don't do that! Giving me that won't help him. You can't…"

"You know what this drug does, you pig and you used it on a man that considered you a friend! Why?"

"He cost me everything! I lost my job, my standing in the scientific community, my wife…everything! If I hadn't gotten away when I did, I'd be in jail!"

"You should have thought of that before you decided to use him and the Institute for your sick plans."

"Please…please, I'll do anything!"

"Tell me what the drug does. Tell me the effects it has long term. Tell me how we can help him."

"What? I…I don't know."

"What did the drug do to the admiral?! What! Did you take everything from him?" Lee cried. "Did you take his mind?"

"I don't know! I don't know what it did to him! I swear! I…"

"Then let's start giving you what you gave him and we'll see."

"No! I really don't know! He…he survived six shots! I…I didn't think he would survive three! My research...I used monkeys for crying out loud! He didn't respond the way I thought he would! Not the way my subjects did!"

"He wasn't in intense pain?" Chip asked in a hard tone.

"He…he was yes but…"

"But what?" Lee asked, twirling the syringe in his hand.

"He was lucid. Mostly. Towards the end I…I don't know what he thought. He didn't seem to know where he was but…I…I…"

"You what?"

"I…I left. I tried to make him wake up enough to...to..."

"To what?" Lee asked, his voice hard, when DeJean's voice trailed off. "You tried to wake him up so he would feel the pain. You tried to wake him up enough that if he was aware, he'd know what was coming. Right?"

"Was he conscious when you set the fire?" Chip interrupted.

"No…no he was still experiencing the effects of the last dose," he whimpered as he watched the syringe in Crane's hand anxiously.

"The last dose? You mean one last dose before you set fire to the cabin?" Lee asked in a deadly quiet voice.

"No! I...I didn't know you two had tracked me down," he whimpered, terrified at the dark look on Crane's face.

Lee leaned close to DeJean and stared him in the eye. "I'll see you dead if he dies."

"Tell us how to help him," Chip ordered harshly as he put himself between Lee and DeJean. "What can we tell the doctors?"

"I…I don't know," he sobbed as he watched Lee twirl the syringe. "He needs fluids. Lots of fluids to…to flush his system of the drug."

"And?" Chip asked quietly.

DeJean seemed to give up and slumped back against the wall. "I don't know. Most of my subjects went mad as I said. But I don't know if it was a direct effect of the drug or if it was the result of an inferior mind that couldn't understand why the pain never stopped. Necropsies didn't show any obvious change in their brains but I did notice other organ damage. Mostly to the kidneys. They couldn't filter the drug so it built up. There were some that displayed heart and liver damage also but again, I don't know if it was a direct result or they simply had a proclivity for it."

Lee knelt in front of DeJean, the syringe held in front of his face. "Would any drugs given to him cause more problems?"

"You mean morphine or some other pain killer?" DeJean asked in confusion. "No, I don't think there would be a problem. It shouldn't interact adversely. If there's been kidney damage, he should be started on IVs immediately or…or dialysis. I never really…"

"You never really looked to _stop_ the pain or mitigate its effects, just cause it? Is that what you meant?" Lee asked.

DeJean lowered his head and nodded.

"Anything else that you can tell us?" Chip asked as he watched Lee closely.

"No. My research was stolen… I mean taken...by Nelson. I don't know what he did with it but I don't think there's much more in it than what I've told you."

"So your usefulness is at an end," Lee said coldly.

"What…?"

Before he could finish his question, Lee lunged at him, grabbed him firmly and plunged the needle into his arm, smiling at the terrified expression on DeJean's face.

"NO! NO! I told you all I know! Why? Why…?"

Lee sat back on the ground and stared at DeJean dispassionately.

"Lee," Chip whispered in horror. "Why would you do that?"

Lee sat silent and still, watching as realization stole over DeJean's face when the expected pain never came.

"What? What did you do? What was in that injection?"

Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled a vial from it and threw it to DeJean who caught it deftly. Reading the label quickly, he turned disbelieving eyes to Lee right before his eyes slid closed and he slumped to the ground.

Chip reached for the vial as it slipped from DeJean's hand and read it.

"You knocked him out with…?"

"Did you think I would really shoot him up with what he gave the admiral?"

"Uh…yeah I did. You had me worried."

"I wanted to," Lee answered harshly as he watched the slumped DeJean. "I really wanted him to know what it was like. I wanted him to feel what the admiral did. But you're right; he wouldn't have wanted me to do that."

"I'll notify Springer we got him. Then I guess we wait for the cavalry to swoop in and take care of him."

"Chip, we need to take DeJean's drug and all the notes and stuff in the back of his truck. It may be of use to the doctors in treating the admiral."

"And we don't want that little drug in anyone else's hands."

"True. The admiral thought he had it all. Now we need to make sure no one else has it."

"I'll make the call to Springer and you start gathering up the things in the back."

Lee rose and stood over DeJean's body. "I really wish I was able to do to you what you did to the admiral. But I know him and he wouldn't have wanted me to give you the same thing you gave him. But I really wanted to," he muttered as he went to the back of the truck and began gathering up the scattered vials, putting them back in the cooler, then grabbed the notes and put them inside as well. Noticing a tape recorder, he pulled it towards him, and hesitantly turned it on; hearing DeJean's voice as he dispassionately recorded what his drug was doing to the admiral. His heart broke as he heard agonized cries in the background he knew were coming from the admiral.

"Shut it off, Lee," Chip ordered as he came to stand by him. "Lee…"

Not getting any response and unable to listen any longer he reached over and clicked the player off.

"I should have killed him or given him the drug. I…"

"Stop it. You'd be no better than he is."

"Maybe I'm not any better."

"You are, Lee. Never doubt that. Now come on. I hear someone coming. Do you have everything?"

"Yeah. I have it," he answered grimly as he put the things he'd gathered into the back of Chip's truck and waited for the SAR team to arrive.

~O~

After handing DeJean off to the deputies accompanying the Search and Rescue team and making sure they understood exactly what he had done, Lee and Chip headed for San Diego, hoping they had good news when they got there about the admiral.

"Springer? It's Crane. Come in."

"Crane! Just heard the SAR team has a prisoner. Good work! Everything all right on your end?"

"We're good. We managed to get some information out of DeJean about the drug. Have you heard anything about Admiral Nelson?" he asked quietly, hoping there was good news.

"Just had a call from the naval hospital. He arrived and is being evaluated. The doctor from the Institute…uh…Jamieson got there with the files. He was reluctant to give the admiral any pain killers. Wasn't sure if there would be any interactions."

"We got some information from DeJean. He's pretty sure pain killers wouldn't interact although he never really looked at anything beyond how much pain he could give. He did say to look for kidney, heart and liver damage. The drug isn't filtered by the body's organs too well and builds up."

"Damn. What kind of person creates something like that?" Springer asked incredulously

"A monster. A soulless monster."

"Yeah, you're right. I hope he rots in Hell for what he did."

"Us too," Crane said softly. "Could you call the hospital and let them know what I told you about treating the admiral? Tell them we're on our way. We should be there in a little over an hour."

"Will do. Springer out."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lee and Chip drove as quickly as they could toward San Diego, their thoughts on the man they'd found left for dead in a burning building, the man they both called friend.

Midnight found them hurrying down the halls of the naval hospital to the waiting room they had been directed to on arrival and found a group of men seated in chairs about the room, their expressions bleak. Seeing the two _Seaview_ officers enter, the men jumped to their feet.

"Did you get him? Did you get the guy that did this to the admiral?" Chief Sharkey asked in a tightly controlled voice as he walked to Crane's side followed by Kowalski, Patterson and a few others.

"Yeah, Chief. We got him. San Diego Sheriff Deputies have him in custody. And he's feeling a lot better than he should right now," Lee answered grimly. "Has there been any word?"

"We just got here a little bit ago, but we haven't seen anyone to talk to," Sharkey replied. "Pat flew Doc down in the Flying Sub though."

"Pat, did Doc say anything?" Lee asked.

"Not much. He read those files Miss Wood gave him and I could tell he was mad. Kept muttering about man's inhumanity to man or something like that. Once we got here he disappeared with a doctor, a Captain Weston. He did say to let one of the nurses know when you both got here."

"I'll take care of that, sirs," Kowalski said as he strode from the room.

"Skipper, you and Mr. Morton were with the admiral, how was he? We haven't heard much."

"He wasn't conscious when we got to him, Chief. He'd been given a few doses of that drug of DeJean's and he was beaten pretty badly. By the time we got to the cabin DeJean had the admiral in, it was on fire. Somehow the admiral had gotten out of the house, bound hands and all, but he'd been burned. I…I don't know what damage that drug or the beatings or the fact food and water weren't given to him did to him."

"What's this drug? I mean I seem to remember this DeJean guy. He worked in the new Bioprospecting Research building, didn't he? He got fired a few months ago."

"DeJean was hired to work on developing new pain-relieving drugs using various species of plants and organisms from the sea. What he did instead was design a drug that caused intense pain. From what we heard…it worked way too well," Lee muttered in anger as he remembered the agony he'd heard on the tapes.

"Heard how, Skipper?' Kowalski asked when he came back into the room.

Lee took a long time to answer but finally said, "DeJean hated the admiral for firing him and ruining him and his life. He was using the admiral as a guinea pig to find out what his drug did to a human and not the monkeys all his research had been done with up to that point. He made recordings of his findings. We…we…," Unable to get the sounds he'd heard out of his head, he walked to a window nearby and stared out, his hands thrust deeply into his pockets.

"The recordings…they, uh…we could hear the admiral in the background on the one we listened to," Chip answered quietly, trying not to remember the suffering he had heard, when Lee didn't continue. "It was…"

"I'm glad you two got here," a voice interrupted what Chip was trying hard not to say much less remember.

"Jamie!" Lee called as he turned and walked towards the _Seaview's_ and the Institute's doctor. "How is he?"

"Alive. But he's in an incredible amount of pain."

"Did Ranger Springer get through to you about the pain killers?"

"Yes, yes he did. We started him on them once we got your message. We'd already decided we needed to do something for him as his pain level seemed to be increasing."

"How bad is he hurt?" Sharkey asked quietly.

"He was, quite simply, beaten horribly. He has several broken ribs, a pretty severe concussion and more bruises than I can count but luckily no internal bleeding. He's experienced a serious eye injury from the beatings. The orbital bone below his left eye is cracked and the left eye is swollen shut. From the little we managed to see, the eye itself may have suffered some damage, but we won't know for sure until the swelling goes down."

"Are you saying he may not be able to see out of it?" Lee asked.

"We don't know right now. When the swelling goes down, we'll know more."

"Is he gonna be all right, Doc?" Kowalski asked quietly.

"I wish I could say a definitive yes to that Ski but I just don't know."

"DeJean said there might be damage to his kidneys, liver or heart because the drug isn't filtered out easily. Does the admiral have any signs of that?" Lee asked in a hard tone.

"I'm afraid we're seeing some symptoms of kidney damage but we're not sure if it's from the drug or the fact he's severely dehydrated. Right now the only thing we're sure of is his kidneys aren't functioning adequately. If they don't improve soon we'll need to start him on dialysis to filter out not only the drug but the toxins that have built up. His electrolytes are out of whack and we're trying to counteract all the symptoms we're seeing but we're not having much luck."

"Symptoms, Doc?" Sharkey asked hesitantly.

"Currently he's experiencing muscle spasms. His pulse is rapid. His blood pressure has been dropping and he's having some difficulty breathing."

"What about his liver and heart? Are there any signs of damage there?" Lee asked quietly.

"So far he's showing no signs of liver involvement. As for his heart, we're seeing some irregular heartbeats, his pulse is rapid and his blood pressure has been dropping as I said but we're hoping that's due more to the dehydration than the drug but we don't know for sure."

"DeJean said his subjects went out of their minds. What…"

"I don't know, Skipper," Jamieson interrupted, quickly cutting him off as he had read the same thing in the files. "He's not conscious, he hasn't been conscious and we won't know what effect the drug had on his brain until he _is_ conscious."

"He hasn't been conscious at all?" Lee asked in concern, hoping he'd come to at some point.

"No, no he hasn't but I wouldn't expect him to be right now. It's actually probably better that he isn't. The pain he would be in…well, it's just better right now for him to not be conscious."

"What about the burns, Doc?" Chip asked.

"They're not as bad as the med techs on the flight thought. None are third degree so we caught a break on that. Some of the burns and some of the wounds on his wrists are infected though but we have him on antibiotics right now to try to knock it out. His temperature spiked pretty high on the flight in. We think that's due to a combination of the dehydration and infection. Unfortunately, it's stayed pretty high."

"Can we see him?" Lee asked.

"Not right now."

"Doc…just for a minute," Lee pleaded. "I need to see him, talk to him."

Jamieson stared at Crane for a few seconds. Knowing the way the two men had left things after their argument, he was pretty certain the captain was experiencing not only extreme worry for the admiral's condition but also for the possibility he'd never be able to take back whatever had been said.

"All right. But only for a minute and only you. I want him to concentrate on fighting. He doesn't need any distractions right now."

"I understand."

"Come on. I'll show you the room," he said as he led Crane from the room. "Oh! Would one of you call Miss Wood at the Institute and tell her what I've just told you? She made me promise to keep her in the loop."

"I'll do that, Doc," Sharkey said quietly as he left the room.

The walk down the long hallway seemed to take forever, questions, fears, worry clouding Crane's mind. Stopping outside a non-descript hospital room, Lee stopped Jamieson as he went to open the door. "Doc, what are his chances?"

Jamieson sighed heavily and looked him in the eye. "I don't know. We don't know the long-term effects of this drug. We know the immediate effects obviously and we're seeing some that may be caused by the drug but we don't know for sure. He's fighting but, he's been through a lot. His _body_ has been through a lot. The injuries from the beatings alone are serious. Add this drug, the burns and everything else…well he's got a lot to fight against."

"I just feel so helpless."

"So do I. I'm supposed to be a healer and I look at him and I have no idea what to do for him. I have no idea how to help him," Jamie said in anguish as he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

"Sorry, Doc. I guess I'm only thinking of how this affects me."

"I understand, Skipper. Really I do. Now, you can see him but only for…" What he was about to say was interrupted by a flurry of people coming down the hall and pushing past the two men and into the admiral's room. Jamie reached out a hand to one. "What's happened? What's going on?"

"He's seizing," a young blonde-haired nurse answered quickly before disappearing inside the room.

"Seizing? Jamie, what…"

"Not now. Stay here," he ordered brusquely before going into the room.

Lee rubbed his hands over his head in frustration. Seizing…that didn't sound good. "What's happening to you? Please, don't give up!" he whispered as he began to pace outside the room, stopping when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Lee? What's going on? I saw a bunch of people running this way. Where's Jamie?" Chip asked in concern.

"He went inside with the admiral. Something happened to him."

"Something? Like what?" he asked in anxiety.

"A nurse told Jamie the admiral was seizing."

"You mean like having a seizure?"

"I guess so," he said as he continued to pace.

Several long minutes went by as the two waited for any word on the admiral. Finally, the door opened to reveal a harried looking Jamieson followed by an equally harried doctor.

"Jamie! Is he all right? What happened?" Lee asked quickly.

Jamie put up a hand to calm the two men. "Easy. He's all right."

"Did he have a seizure? Is he…?"

"Just let me talk. First off this is Captain Weston. He's the doctor in charge of Admiral Nelson's case. Captain, this is Commander Lee Crane and Lieutenant Commander Chip Morton, the other two thirds of the command staff of _Seaview_. I'll let you talk to them."

"Gentlemen, I know you're concerned for Admiral Nelson but I want to assure you we're doing all we can for him. However, it's a little hard to do that when we're dealing with the unknown. This drug is something we don't know enough about. The trials being done on monkeys, while accepted practice, is not giving us definitive answers in how to treat Admiral Nelson or what the long term consequences may be. Right now he is experiencing not only the effects of the drug but the effects of severe dehydration. These coupled with the burns and the beatings he endured…well we don't know what symptoms to assign to which cause."

"In other words…?" Chip asked slowly.

Weston laughed softly. "I'm sorry. What I'm trying to say is the severe dehydration may be the cause of the neurological symptoms we're seeing…muscle spasms, unconsciousness and the seizures... or it may be the effects of this drug or it may be a combination. We'll just have to wait until he regains consciousness."

"You said seizures as in more than one," Lee said uneasily.

"Yes, Admiral Nelson experienced a seizure on the SAR flight in, but the med techs responded quickly. Right now he's resting as comfortably as he can. The morphine is easing the pain of the drug and his other injuries. We'll be keeping a close eye on his electrolyte balance to ensure he doesn't experience any more seizures but we're having some difficulty with that. I think he's responding as well as we can hope for right now."

"Can we see him?" Lee asked softly.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. He needs rest and the past few minutes haven't been the most relaxing," Weston answered with a frown.

"Please…I…we just need to see him for a minute."

After a moment's thought, and a quick glance to Jamieson, the doctor nodded. "All right. But only for a minute. Now I have some lab tests I need to check on for him. I'll be right back," he nodded as he walked off.

"Come on," Jamieson said as he opened the door. "I'll be in for you in one minute. No longer."

Nodding, the two walked in, stopping short at their first look at the admiral attached to monitors and IVs. Walking closer they were appalled by the bruises and cuts that marked his face and what they could see of his chest above the bandage that was wrapped about his broken ribs. One eye was covered in a thick white bandage while the other was swollen and bruised. Dressings covered the burns and wounds on his hands, wrists and arms.

"Oh, Admiral," Lee whispered in sorrow at what he was seeing of his friend's injuries, at least those he could see. He shuddered to think of what the injuries on the inside may encompass. Did DeJean's drug take his mind as it did his poor test subjects?

He walked closer and stared at the monitors attached to him, all telling him he was alive. He leaned over him and gently touched a spot on his arm devoid of bandages. "I…we're here, Admiral. Chip and I and some of the crew are here. You're safe. DeJean won't hurt you any more."

Staring into Nelson's face, Lee searched for any sign the man was aware but saw nothing, not even a twitch to show he was heard.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him for a moment and he turned, seeing the same worry on Chip's face.

"He'll be all right, Lee. You know he will."

Not at all sure he knew the admiral would be all right, a simple nod was the only response he could give as he turned his gaze back to the man lying before them, quiet, battered and bruised.

"Gentlemen, your minute is up," Jamie called softly from the door.

Turning, they saw Jamie holding the door wide open and the crew that had been waiting patiently in the waiting room arrayed outside the door all trying to sneak peeks of their commanding officer.

With a simple, accepting nod, Lee leaned closer to Nelson, whispering in his ear, "I need you to be all right. I need you to know I'm sorry. I can't take back what I said unless you wake up and come back to us. Please."

"Come on, Lee," Chip said softly as he patted him on the back. "Let's let him rest."

With one last glance back, the two officers left the room and were immediately surrounded by the men.

"How is he?"

"Is he going to be all right?"

"Did he wake up?"

"Easy, men. Let's just move away from the door," Jamie ordered. "The admiral's sleeping which is what his body needs right now. There's been no change since I told you a half hour ago how he was. I need to go check on some of the tests we ran on him. Go wait somewhere quietly and I'll be back when I have news"

The men of the _Seaview_ watched Jamieson walk quickly down the hall for a few seconds before turning a fleeting glance at the closed door to the admiral's room and, sighing, walked back to the waiting room.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 _Many thanks for all the reviews! They are appreciated. Mila, your English is much better than my Portuguese! I'm glad this site and all the stories help you._

Lee sat quietly by Nelson's side, hoping today was the day he came back. Praying today was the day he could tell the man that was closer to him than a brother he was sorry. It had been two days since the admiral had been flown out of the desert and to the naval hospital in San Diego, two long days with virtually no change in the man's condition. The crew, for the most part, had gone back to Santa Barbara but occasionally a few could be seen roaming the halls or sitting in the waiting room, hoping they could take good news back to NIMR.

As Lee watched, Nelson slept restlessly, occasionally moaning softly or muttering incoherently. Two days of no good news had Crane's nerves on edge. Hearing the door open he turned, not surprised to see Chip there, two cups of coffee in his hands.

"I thought you could use some liquid refreshment," he joked.

Taking one of the cups, Lee sipped it slowly, sighing as he felt the caffeine begin to flow through his veins. "Thanks, Chip.

"Any time. Has there been any change?" Chip asked, knowing there was none but asking anyway.

"No. He hasn't come close to waking up."

"He will. Soon."

"What makes you think that? He hasn't shown any signs he's coming back. He…"

"I know him. And I know he's fighting to come back. If you weren't feeling guilty, you'd know that too."

"I have a lot to feel guilty for, don't I?" he replied harshly before turning back to stare at Nelson. "If we hadn't argued, he wouldn't have…"

"Stop it, Lee. You don't know what he would have done. The pressure of the past few weeks and the guilt he felt over the last mission was getting to him. I saw that while you were off on your ONI trip. He'd had enough of everyone and everything. Mostly, he'd had enough of all the blame and guilt he felt over what happened with the gas. McDonald's death..."

"ONI trip? You make it sound like I was off enjoying myself!"

"Weren't you?" Chip asked quietly, not daring to look at Crane.

"You think I enjoy these missions?" he asked incredulously.

"Don't you?"

"No, I don't! I go because I can make a difference! I can…"

"Can what? Get away? Look Lee, I can't say I understand what drives you to take these missions when you should be happy just being _Seaview's_ skipper. I'm not ONI. _He_ understands," he gestured to Nelson. "He told you that. He understands what you feel. He understands why you go. What…"

A soft moan from the admiral had both men rising quickly from their chairs to hover over him.

"Admiral?" Lee called softly. "It's Lee. Can you wake up for me?"

Both men watched as Nelson's head tossed restlessly from side to side.

"No…don't. Please…" Nelson whispered brokenly, his words barely understandable. Lee and Chip were shocked at the depth of emotion in the few simple words. "I...make it stop…please make it stop. I…have to…to hold on…I…I can't…can't…give up…let him…can't let…"

"Chip, find Jamie or Weston," Lee murmured before turning back to the admiral. "Admiral, it's Lee. Can you hear me? Please. Come back to us."

"Lee? Lee's gone. He won't…won't come…the pain…stop…please…stop…"

Nelson's words tore through Crane like a knife. He didn't think he would come for him? Why? Why would he think that?

"I'm here. I _did_ come for you. We found you! Please, wake up!"

"No! No…no…no…have to hold on! I…"

"Admiral! Wake up! Please…"

"What's going on?" Jamie asked behind him as he entered the room quickly, Chip and a young nurse on his heels.

"I don't know. He started to wake up then he started muttering and getting agitated."

"Let me check him out. Wait outside."

"Doc…"

"Outside."

"Come on, Lee," Chip whispered as he took his arm ushering him slowly from the room, watching as Jamie and the nurse checked Nelson's vitals and tried to calm him down.

"Did you hear him, Chip? He thought I wouldn't come for him. Why? He had to know that no matter what, I'd come! I'd find him no matter where he was!"

"Of course he knew that. He was talking nonsense. He…"

"He what? He isn't in his right mind? Damn! What if…what if he is…?"

"Stop it, Lee! We don't know anything. It's the first time since we found him he's even tried talking. Don't borrow trouble!"

"He's right, Skipper."

Lee and Chip turned to see Jamie standing outside the admiral's room. "We can't give up on him. It's too early to know anything except he's getting better."

"Physically," Lee murmured.

"Yes, physically. His vitals are improving. His kidneys are functioning better. His burns, bruises and broken bones are healing. You just have to believe there's no other damage we can't see and that he'll come back all the way."

"I'm sorry. I just heard him…"

"I know. Look, his fever's still elevated and he's still feeling the effects of the dehydration and the drug. It's still in his system. Give him time."

"Did he calm down?"

"Yes, he's calm and back to sleep. I gave him something to help him relax. You two have spent too much time sitting here waiting for something that may be days off," Jamie said in concern. "Get out of here for a bit. Hit the beach…do something. Just not here."

"No, Jamie, I…"

"I know, Skipper…you don't want to be away if he wakes. That's not going to happen in the next few hours. I'm going to keep him sedated until tomorrow. Captain Weston and I agree it's for the best. His body needs the time to heal. Now get out of here. I don't want to see either of you until tomorrow morning. In fact, I'm going to leave orders that no one is to go in to see the admiral until tomorrow. Chip? Make sure you both go some place relaxing. Got it?"

"Got it, Doc. Come on, Lee. Let's head to the hotel and hit the beach. It'll be good for both of us," Chip said quietly as he steered Lee down the hall, who after a long look back at the closed door, allowed himself to be guided away.

~O~

Lee Crane sat on the balcony of the hotel he'd left just a few days ago, staring out at virtually the same scene he'd been watching after he'd first heard about the admiral. Then he'd been worried for the man's safety and now he worried for the man's sanity. What side effects had DeJean's drug caused? Were they permanent? Would the admiral recover completely? He longed to be able to take back the past days, longed to be able to take back the harsh words, longed to be able to make it all go away. But there was no going back.

"There you are," Chip called as he came out on the small balcony wearing dark blue swim trunks and a white tee shirt. He watched in admiration as the surfers waited patiently for the perfect wave and rode it in to shore. He longed to be out there with them but leaving Lee alone wasn't a good idea as he knew he'd take the first opportunity that presented itself and take off for the hospital, despite Doc's words.

"Yep. Here I am."

"I don't think this is what Doc meant when he said find something relaxing to do."

"It's all I got, Chip. I don't want to be far from the phone in case something happens."

"Doc told us nothing was going to happen for awhile at least. He sedated him. You know that."

"I know."

"Come on down to the beach at least. Just for a bit. I'll call the hospital and tell them to leave a message at the front desk for us if there's any change and I'll ask the front desk to come find us."

Sighing heavily, Lee rubbed his hands over his tired eyes and finally nodded. "All right. Just for a bit though."

Rising, the two men went inside the room where Lee changed into swim trunks while Chip made a few calls. Grabbing a towel, he reluctantly followed Chip out the door and down to the beach where he sat, listlessly watching the surfers off shore and studiously ignoring the plethora of lovely ladies that paraded up and down the beach in front of him, much to Chip's chagrin.

~O~

Early the next morning, the two _Seaview_ officers were out of the hotel and outside the admiral's room waiting for Weston and Jamieson to finish doing an examination, Lee pacing anxiously back and forth as he waited for word.

The sound of the door opening had both men turning.

"How is he? Has he been conscious?"

Jamieson sighed heavily. "No, he hasn't been conscious. He's the same. I'm sorry. I wish I had better news."

Lee felt the hope he'd managed to find on the beach and through another sleepless night dwindle away.

"Gentlemen, his recovery is not going to be an easy thing," Weston replied with a frown. "His temperature is still high. It's hovering around 102 right now which is better than it was but the dehydration coupled with the infection, his other injuries and this blasted drug…well it's not a good combination. His body's been ravaged by this and he's doing all he can to come back."

"I know, Doctor. I just…"

"You just want the answers now. We all do. But we must wait. We're dealing with the unknown. Will, I'm going to go check on the last blood work for him, then check on a few of my other patients," Weston said turning to Jamieson. "I'll be back."

"Is he any good, Doc?" Lee asked quietly as he watched Weston hurry down the hall.

"He is. I've known Ben for several years. The admiral's in good hands."

"Can we sit with the admiral?" Chip asked.

"Yes, yes of course. I think I'm in need of some breakfast and lots of coffee. You two go in and I'll be back shortly."

Lee and Chip walked into the admiral's room and pulled up seats by the man's bed.

"He doesn't look any better than when he came in," Lee muttered miserably.

"I don't know. His right eye is less swollen, and the bruises are fading a bit."

"I guess that's true."

"I…uh, I'm going to go get some more coffee. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said wanting Lee to have some time alone with the admiral.

"Right."

Sitting by Nelson's side, Lee watched him, hoping there was some small sign the man heard him or knew he was there but there was nothing.

Frustrated he rose and walked to the window, gazing out over the hospital grounds, thinking of all that had transpired in just the last few weeks from the last cruise on _Seaview_ and all that had happened on it to his ONI mission to the blasted argument to thinking his friend was dead to finding him alive and now this waiting.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the slight moan from the bed behind him and hurried to Nelson's side.

"Admiral? Can you hear me?" he asked as watched Nelson's head toss restlessly on the pillow. Another long moan and Lee placed a comforting hand on his forehead.

"Admiral? It's Lee. I'm here."

Smiling, he watched as Nelson's one good eye slowly open and fixed on his face.

"Admiral! We've been waiting for you to wake up! I can't tell you how…how…Admiral? Can you hear me?" he asked when Nelson showed no sign he heard or saw him. "Admiral?"

The sound of the door opening drew his eyes reluctantly from Nelson and to Jamieson standing by the door a chart in his hand.

"Jamie, he's awake. Well, his good eye is open at least."

Jamieson walked quickly to Nelson's side and stared down. "Admiral? How are you feeling? You had us all pretty worried."

But Nelson's gaze never left Lee's face. Glancing up at the monitors, Jamie saw the admiral's vital signs increasing. "Harry? Can you look at me?"

Lee watched in sadness as Nelson's eye flickered then slowly slid closed again.

"Jamie? It was like he didn't even know who I was!"

"We don't know that."

"We don't? He looked right through me!"

"He's been through a lot."

"You keep saying that!"

"It's true. The fact he woke up and wasn't agitated is a good sign."

"He woke up?"

Both men turned to see Chip Morton with two cups of coffee in his hand.

"He did, Chip but he didn't seem to know who I was," Lee answered morosely.

"Skipper, he's exhausted. Don't go jumping to conclusions! We don't know how long he was lying out in that sun. That coupled with the dehydration and this drug is not a good combination. It plays havoc with his system both physically and mentally. We need to give it…we need to give him…time."

Lee Crane fought against the despair he felt at Nelson's condition. The fear that Nelson would never be the same again haunted him and he struggled against the rising waves of fear.

A gentle hand on his arm had him turning to Jamieson beside him, his face one of hope, not fear.

"Give him time. We are talking about Harriman Nelson, you know," he joked, a smile twitching at his lips.

A moment passed and after a quick glance to the man lying silent before him, returned the smile with a brief nod.

"We'll give him all the time he needs. And all the support," he added as he seated himself by Nelson's side, a quick glance to Jamieson informing the doctor he wasn't moving.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Harriman Nelson floated in a sea of pain coupled with a disturbing sense of fear. He couldn't remember what had happened to him and he tried hard to recall anything that would explain the pain that wrapped itself about him like a vise and the intense fear that filled him. Slowly, images and voices began to fill his mind and he tensed as he began to recall an overwhelming pain filling him, its fire burning a path of heat and agony throughout his body. He remembered a mocking voice…needles…a maniacal laughter…intense heat…What had happened to him? Where was he?

Feeling an urgency inside to know where he was and what had happened, he struggled up from the dark place he'd found himself in and attempted to open his eyes, almost afraid of what he might see. Confusion filled him when only one eye responded to his command to open. He blinked as he struggled to get his one cooperating eye to focus on something but met with little success. Raising a hand up to his uncooperative eye, he encountered a soft material lying over it and he frowned. What had happened? Why couldn't he see out of his one eye at all and only some out of the other?

Turning his head, he gazed about the room he was in, pleased that his one eye began to focus a bit as blurry, indistinct shapes coalesced into firmer images. A soft murmur by his side had him glancing to the shape of someone sitting in a chair by his side and he smiled as he recognized the man beside him, his head on his chest apparently asleep.

"Lee?" he whispered, surprised at the roughness of the voice he heard come from his no response, he swallowed a few times then called louder. This time the figure jerked awake and rose quickly to stand over him, concern written on his face.

"Admiral? Are you…? Do you…do you know who I am?"

Nelson frowned as he heard the words. "Of course I know you, Lee. What a silly question," he whispered, again surprised at the timbre of his voice. "Why…why wouldn't I know you?"

Relieved, Lee sighed, a big smile filling his face. "It doesn't matter now."

"Where am I?"

"Naval Medical Center San Diego," he answered simply, watching Nelson for any sign the man remembered.

"Why? What happened? Why am I having trouble seeing?"

Lee flinched a bit having thought only the admiral's left eye had been injured.

"What do you remember?" he asked deciding to ignore the question for now.

Nelson stared at Crane, blinking a bit in the hopes his vision would clear and he could see his friend better. "I…I don't remember anything. I should remember something," he muttered in irritation as he rubbed his one uncovered eye.

"Try," Lee replied softly as he grabbed the hand gently, afraid he would do worse damage to the eye, and laid it down on the soft mattress. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"The last thing I can recall is…is…"

"What, Admiral?" Lee asked in a quiet voice, almost afraid of what the man's last conscious memory was.

Nelson's brow furrowed as he struggled to remember something…anything. He thought back to what his last conscious thought was, his eye flickering up to Lee's for a moment when he recalled the argument in his office and cringed. The words spoken in haste was the last thing he could recollect but, wanting something else to focus on, he closed his eye and fought to bring some other memory to mind. The words he and Lee had thrown at each other hurt too much to dwell on for now.

"I…I was on _The Folly_! Wasn't I?" he asked as a picture of his sailboat flitted on the edge of his thoughts, beckoning him on. "I was sailing. Alone. There was something I needed to do. Something...Damn it! Why can't I remember?" he asked in frustration. Rubbing a hand over his aching head he looked at Lee who stared at him in sadness. "Tell me."

"I think maybe I should go get Jamie," he answered instead, patting Nelson on the shoulder and turning to leave, stopping when Nelson latched onto his arm and gasped in pain.

Turning back, Lee watched as Nelson raised his bandaged hands up as if he had never seen them before and turned his gaze to Lee.

"What happened to me?"

"I need to…"

"Tell me!" he yelled as loudly as he could.

"Calm down. Please," Lee whispered as he leaned over the confused and worried man. "I…"

"What's going on in here?" a voice from the door asked.

"Jamie, the admiral's awake," Lee replied simply, his gaze never leaving the man in the bed whose one eye commanded answers.

"So I see. And upset," Jamie said as he walked farther into the room and smiled down at Nelson who stared back in question. "Welcome back, Admiral."

"What's happened to me? Why can't I see and what is wrong with my hands?"

"Can you remember anything?" Jamie asked, concerned the admiral couldn't remember the events of the past week.

"Not enough. I remember being on _The Folly_ and…and..."

"And what?" Jamie asked as he watched Nelson struggle to remember.

"There was a storm coming. I was headed for San Diego to safety. It came up faster than I thought. There was a boat in trouble. I helped them. They got underway and…"

"And?" Jamie asked quietly as Lee watched on in concern.

Several long minutes passed until awareness flickered over Nelson's face. "DeJean," he whispered harshly. "He was there. He…."

Lee knew the moment his friend remembered what had happened as a darkness descended over his face and he clenched his jaw tight.

"He used that blasted drug of his on me. He…he…"

"Admiral, calm down. He's gone. He won't hurt you again. I'll see to it," Lee promised as Jamie watched in concern as Nelson's pulse and blood pressure began to rise.

Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, Jamie leaned close. "Calm down, Admiral. You need to calm down."

Nelson nodded and took a deep breath. "Yes…yes…I…I'm all right," he said softly, struggling to control his emotions. "Tell me what happened? How you found me."

"I think that can wait, Admiral," Jamie said. "You need to rest."

"I don't want to rest, Jamie. I want to know what happened to me. All of it! What happened to my eyes and my hands?" he asked gesturing to his injuries.

Jamie sighed, knowing the man wouldn't rest until he was given an answer. "Put simply, your left eye sustained some damage from a rather severe beating. Permanent or temporary we don't know just yet. Your hands and some spots on your arms and legs were burned."

"Burned? I don't remember that. Why can't I remember?" he asked in aggravation.

"You've been through a lot. You need…"

"I don't need rest. I need answers."

"What else can you remember?" Jamie asked softly, surreptitiously keeping an eye on the admiral's vitals.

"I...I remember DeJean coming alongside _The Folly_. He said he was having engine trouble. The boat sounded as though it was misfiring. He asked for help. I knew that storm was on our tails. I couldn't leave him out there in it so I went onboard and…and…"

"And what, Admiral?" Lee asked as he watched Nelson rub a hand over the back of his head. "He…he must have hit me with something. Everything's a blank until…"

"Until?" Lee prodded.

Nelson was silent for a bit as emotions flickered over his face. "I woke up; my hands tied together and pulled over my head. I was kneeling. Couldn't sit or move much. DeJean was there. He…he was not in a good mood," he joked with a weak attempt at a smile.

"He beat you," Lee stated harshly, anger in his voice.

Nelson looked up into Lee's face and saw the anguish, the pain…the guilt…written on it and he sighed.

"Yes," he answered laying his head back against the pillow. "I don't know how long…how many times. There didn't seem to be any differentiation between day and night. It was all the same. Just…"

"What then, Admiral?" Jamie asked when Nelson simply stared off into space.

Clenching his jaw tightly as the memories flooded back, he struggled to keep a blank look on his face. "He wanted me to know what his drug did. He was quite proud of it. He injected me with it. I lost count of…of how many shots he gave me," he continued simply and with no emotion. "I've never felt pain like that before. Even Ulrich's machine didn't…"

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eye as he tried hard to forget the waves of pain that had washed over him, the cries that erupted from him as the fire had burned its blazing agony throughout his body, the hopelessness that had filled him. Several minutes went by before he could continue. "He…he told me no one would look for me because I was dead. He showed me a newspaper. I believed him," he finished in a soft, raspy voice.

"Admiral…"

He looked up and saw the anguish on Lee's face, and heard the same in his voice. "I'm sorry, Lee. I gave up. I…," Unable to continue, he turned away and struggled to regain control.

"It's all right, Admiral. Everything's all right now," Lee assured, patting Nelson's shoulder gently, hoping he was right.

Nodding briefly he turned back to his companions. "Your turn. How did you find me?" he asked, his words barely understandable as he stared at Lee who hovered over him protectively. "And what did that drug do to me?" he asked Jamie.

Jamie rose up and shot Lee a quick look. "We're not sure what all the effects of the drug are. By the time you got here you were severely dehydrated and your kidneys weren't functioning adequately. The drug isn't metabolized well and built up in your organs. We had you on temporary dialysis to flush the accumulated toxins, and that drug, from your system. But your kidneys are responding to treatment so we don't think there will be any long term effects from the dehydration or the drug. You have four ribs that are broken but healing, two that are cracked and you have a concussion. As for your eyes…the left one we think sustained some damage during your beatings. The orbital bone is fractured but not displaced and is healing. We think the eye itself will be fine but we won't know for sure until the swelling goes down."

"What about my right eye," Nelson asked. "Why am I having some trouble with that?"

"You have a pretty severe concussion, Admiral. That coupled with some swelling is probably why you're having trouble focusing. You should be resting not..."

"I'll rest later. What about these?" he interrupted, holding up his bandaged hands.

"You have several first and second degree burns on your hands, arms and a few on your legs. They're healing. You'll have little if any scarring and should regain full use of your hands after some therapy."

Nelson frowned. "Burns? How…what happened that I have burns?"

"You don't remember the shack being on fire?" Lee asked quietly.

Nelson turned to Lee and shook his head after a few minutes. "No. No I don't."

Lee clenched his jaw as he remembered coming around the rock wall and seeing the cabin he was sure Nelson was in fully engulfed in flames.

"DeJean was tipped off that we knew where you were and were coming for him. And you. He set fire to the house with you in it."

Harry stared at Lee as memory flooded back…the colors…the smell of smoke…the sudden realization he was about to die a fiery death.

"I…I remember," he whispered, closing his eye as if that would stop the horror from flooding back.

Lee's heart broke at the anguish he heard in Nelson's voice and railed at the Fates for allowing the things that had been done to his best friend and at himself for his part in what had happened.

Laying a gentle hand on Nelson's shoulder, Lee leaned close. "Admiral, I…"

"How did you know I was still alive?" Nelson interrupted, trying to forestall a conversation he wasn't quite ready for.

"We didn't. We thought you had been washed overboard during that storm. We found your safety harness tether had snapped. The couple you helped…the Gathers…told us about your helping them and the man they saw come up in the power boat. They described him pretty well. Lucy…Mrs. Gathers…heard you mutter a name. It sounded French to her. DeJean popped into my head and she was sure that was the name. She even got the name on the back of DeJean's boat and that took us to the place he rented the boat."

"Sounds like I owe them a lot. How did you find me out in…wherever I was though?" Nelson asked, his eye flickering and his voice weakening as if he was having trouble staying awake.

"Chip and I went to the boat rental place and found a Coast Guard officer that had been on the cutter that found _The Folly_. He was looking for a John David Charles who hadn't returned after the storm."

"John David Charles? Not very imaginative was he?"

"No. Anyway, he got a call that the boat DeJean had rented had been found. We went to the place and found the guy that had helped DeJean. He met DeJean at an out of the way dock, helped him unload some heavy stuff into a truck and took the boat. And from him we were pointed in the direction of Anza Borrego State Park."

"Anza…so that's where I was."

"Yes. Just outside the park actually. We had some help finding where you were but DeJean had an accomplice in the park also. He warned him we were coming and DeJean set fire to the house with you still in it. By the time we got there, the house was engulfed. We thought you…we thought we were too late," Lee finished softly unable to look Nelson in the eye as he remembered the horror of watching the house burn, thinking his friend was still inside.

"But you obviously weren't," Nelson murmured as he watched Lee's face, knowing what he must have felt seeing the house in flames.

"No…no we weren't," Lee answered with a little smile. "Chip saw something on the hill behind the house and we ran to it only to find you lying there trussed up and barely alive. We called SAR and they had a helicopter there in no time. We put you onboard and here you are."

"And DeJean?"

"In jail. Which is better than what he deserves," Lee growled, his eyes never reaching Nelson's probing one.

"Who found him?" Nelson asked, pretty sure he knew the answer but asked anyway.

"Chip and I. With a lot of help from air support. He was hiding in a little canyon south of where he was holding you. Air support spotted him, relayed his position to us and we got him."

"And what…"

"No more, Admiral," Jamie ordered as he watched Nelson struggle to stay awake. "You have all the answers you need right now. What I need is for you to sleep."

"Not yet, Jamie. I…I want to talk to Lee. Alone."

"Later," Jamie promised patting Nelson on the shoulder.

"No. Now, Jamie. Not later."

Jamie stared at Nelson, seeing the determination…the need...on his face and nodded. "All right. One minute. Say what you have to say quickly. You need rest."

Lee watched as Jamie slowly walked from the room. Before he could turn back to tell Nelson he was sorry for what had been said during their argument, he heard the admiral whisper his name.

"Lee? Lee, I want to apologize to you. I…I had no right to say what I did to you. The argument…it was all my fault. I had no right to tell you how to run your life or to make you feel you need to choose ONI or the Institute. I…I was wrong to…"

"Admiral!" Lee said in surprise. "You have nothing to apologize for! You have every right to question where I want to be. Every right to demand my full attention! When I remember what I said to you, I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. To say what I did to you is unforgivable!"

"Lee, I pushed you into it. I…I can only say…I let the pressure get to me and you were there and a handy whipping boy. I hope you can forgive me. I was afraid I would never be able to ask for your forgiveness when…when DeJean…"

Lee watched as Nelson struggled to stay awake, amazed the man felt he needed his forgiveness. "Admiral, you don't owe me an apology but if you feel you need to ask for forgiveness, you have it. But, can you forgive me for what I said to you? When I said…when I said to hell with you? And the rest? Can you forgive that? Forget it?" he asked, his voice breaking a bit as he remembered the vehemence, the anger in the words and the look on Nelson's face.

Nelson smiled weakly. "I can and have, Lee. I just…I want you to know why…"

"Later Admiral," Lee said softly as Nelson fought off the sleep his body craved. "You sleep now. We'll talk more after you've slept."

"As…as long as you'll be here," Nelson murmured drowsily.

Lee felt his throat constrict as he heard Nelson. "I'll be here. You aren't getting rid of me, sir," he replied gently, his voice breaking slightly. "We have time now."

"Yes…yes, we do," Nelson agreed with a little smile as his eye slid closed.

Laying a hand gently on Nelson's arm, he leaned close. "Sleep well." He stood over his friend watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, grateful he had another chance. Grateful the last words he'd spoken to Nelson weren't the last words the man would ever hear from him.

"He's going to be all right, Skipper."

Lee tore his gaze from his sleeping friend, the reminders of his ordeal still written on his bruised, swollen face and on the bandages that concealed his burns to Jamieson who had come quietly into the room and stood by Nelson's bedside.

"He's been through so much. I can't imagine what he went through. My God Jamie to be put through all that he was, knowing there was going to be another shot and another shot after that. The pain must have been horrible. You heard his voice when he spoke. It sounded like he'd strained it from…from..."

Jamie sighed as he listened to Crane. He'd heard the same thing in the admiral's voice and had hoped Crane hadn't discerned the reason but he knew he had: Nelson's voice was strained…unfamiliar…because he had been screaming in agony for days.

"To go through that and think I wasn't coming for him. That I wasn't even looking for him? That no one was?"

"He didn't think you had abandoned him. You have to know that. DeJean wanted him to know no one was looking for him to take away his hope."

When Crane didn't respond but merely stared at Nelson he continued, "I think while he's sleeping you should try to get some rest also. Come on. You've been here long enough."

"No. I can't Jamie. I need to be here when he wakes up! I promised!"

"He'll sleep for some time. I want you to get out of here for a bit. Call the Institute and tell Angie he's awake, alert and in his right mind. She could use some good news. Go for a swim or a walk on the beach. Find a nice greasy burger to eat or…something. Just get out of here for a little while," he ordered as he grabbed Crane's arm and pulled him along, ignoring his protests as they went. "I'll be here with him if he wakes up."

"But…"

"No buts. Go."

With a last look back at Nelson who seemed to sleep peacefully, he allowed himself to be pushed from the room, watching as the door closed behind him.

"Lee? Is everything all right?"

Turning he saw Chip walking down the hall, concern on his face.

"Yeah, Chip. Jamie just kicked me out."

"Making a nuisance of yourself are you?" he joked with a little smile.

"I guess," he shrugged, a slight smile on his lips. "The admiral woke up again and this time he knew me. He remembered what happened to him."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, it is," Lee agreed, the knot in his chest unraveling a bit. "He asked me to forgive him, Chip. Can you believe that?"

"Yeah, I can. He _would_ take responsibility for what happened, Lee. I think he's been dealing with more than just guilt over the argument."

"The last mission?"

"Yeah. I've been talking to Sharkey and he thinks the admiral hasn't forgiven himself for what happened. Says he can see it in his eyes whenever he's around. Like he can't quite bring himself to look him in the eye."

Lee was silent for a time as he remembered the cruise and how he just assumed things were all right between him and the admiral. The fact the man was carrying a load of guilt concerning the mission had never entered his mind. But then the admiral was quite good at hiding his feelings.

"Well, Jamie wants me to get out so I thought maybe I'd run back to the hotel and call Angie and let her know he's awake and doing better."

"Good plan. She's been pretty worried. And frazzled. Things are a bit crazy at the Institute now that it's been announced the admiral's alive."

"I bet. I'm surprised Starke isn't here beating down the door looking for answers," Lee laughed.

"I don't think Angie is releasing any information on where the admiral is. She doesn't want the press hounding him or the staff here."

"That's good. He doesn't need that. He needs some time to deal with what's happened and heal."

"He _will_ heal, Lee," Chip assured as he took his friend's elbow and began to usher him down the hall. "What you need is a nice swim. The beach was full of lovely ladies when I left a few hours ago."

Lee laughed lightly. "It was, huh? Tore yourself away from their tender ministrations?"

Chip shrugged. "I…well…I wasn't exactly down there. I was on the phone with Angie. She's been trying to get the navy to back down on the timetable for the project. Seems they found out the admiral was alive and want to get moving on it again. She told them in no uncertain terms he wasn't going to be able to work on the project for a long time and they needed to back off."

"She's a fireball isn't she?" Lee said laughing as he thought of what the navy's reaction would have been to that.

"I don't think Admiral Stanton was pleased but he got the message. Seems they're more interested in this blasted project than in the admiral's health," Chip spat out, a touch of anger in his voice as the two men left the medical center.

"They only see one thing and that's their schedule," Lee said angrily. "Well, the admiral won't be working on this project or any for awhile yet. They're going to have to be patient."

"You're talking about the navy brass, Lee. Patience isn't one of their virtues."

"True but I'm not going to jeopardize his health. He needs time: time to heal physically and time to heal mentally. And I'm going to see he gets it."

"Well, I'm going to see you get some time to heal," Chip said with a big smile as he headed his truck towards the hotel the two men had rooms at. "First stop in your recovery is a stint on the beach. You look pasty."

"Pasty? I'm a submariner for crying out loud. We're all pasty."

"Yes, but you are pastier than any submariner I've ever seen so let's go."

"After I call Angie and let her know how he's doing."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

That evening a less pasty-looking Lee Crane sauntered down the hall feeling relaxed and peaceful for the first time in days. The admiral was healing, they'd been able to talk and all was right with the world.

Opening the door to the admiral's room, Lee stopped short as he saw Nelson sitting up and having his vitals checked by a lovely young navy lieutenant.

"Well, your blood pressure and pulse are better and your temperature is still heading down, Admiral. You keep this up and you'll be out of here before you know it," she said brightly.

"Ah, but I doubt as fast as I would like. Not that I mind the company of course," he added with a slight smile.

Laughing lightly, she began to walk away. "I've been warned about your charms, Admiral Nelson," she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "I won't help you with whatever plans you think you have. Now, you rest and I'll be back with something for you to eat."

Lee couldn't help but laugh at the sour look on the admiral's face and walked closer. "What plans do you have you need her help with?"

"No plans. No plans at all," he answered with a bit of an impish smile, a clear indicator that the man was feeling better.

When Lee continued to stare at him, he sighed. "Jamie and this Dr. Weston have me on a soft diet. You know what that means," he muttered grumpily.

"Ah, and you thought perhaps Lieutenant…"

"Taylor…Lieutenant Taylor."

"And you thought you might enlist Lieutenant Taylor into bringing you something less soft?"

"It may have crossed my mind," Nelson smirked.

"There will be no enlisting the young impressionable nurses to bring you less nutritious foods, Admiral."

Both men turned to see Jamie standing just inside the door with a tray in hand and a stern look on his face.

"I didn't say or ask anything of her!"

"And don't start," he ordered as he brought the tray to Nelson's bedside table and pulled it around in front of him. Taking the cover off with a flourish, he smiled at the dismayed look on Nelson's face.

"Jell-O and water? That's all? No meat? Potatoes? Coffee? Something?"

"For now, this is what you get. Your kidneys took a beating. They need some time to heal and that means your diet will be restricted. For now, this is what it's restricted to. Eat it. Drink all the water in that glass and start on the pitcher by your bed. I'll be back," he ordered sternly as he turned and left.

Lee smiled as Nelson stared in disgust at the wiggly mass on his plate then frowned as he watched the man try to pick up a spoon, grimacing at the pain in his hands when he bent them.

"Admiral, I can…"

"I'm fine, Lee," he assured softly as he managed to scoop a bit of Jell-O up and sucked it into his mouth. Smiling a bit, he ate the rest quickly, drained the water from the cup and laid his head back against the pillow, sighing deeply. "That was exhausting."

"It will get better, Admiral. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," Nelson answered a little too brightly but Lee saw the repressed pain in the man's one functioning eye and knew he was lying.

"Jamie said I may get the bandages off soon," he continued holding his hands up. "See how bad they really are. Perhaps even see if the eye is better."

"That's good!"

"I suppose. I was hoping to get out of here tomorrow but they seem..."

"Get out of here to…are you crazy?" Lee interrupted. "You've only been conscious and in your right mind for less than a day and you want to go home? A few days ago we didn't know if you would live! You need to give it time before you start…"

"I don't have time, Lee. The project for the navy is way behind schedule. If I don't…"

"They will wait. Besides, Angie's already told them the project will continue when NIMR says it will continue and not before."

Nelson smiled slightly. "She told them that did she?"

"Yep. Told Admiral Stanton off from what Chip said."

"Well, even so, I have other projects that…"

"Those projects, plans and whatever you have going on will wait. Your health is what's important," Lee said firmly.

"Yes, Lee," Nelson answered quietly as he picked at the bandages on his burned hands, a pained look on his face.

"You shouldn't pick at them. Are they bothering you? I can get Lieutenant Taylor to bring you something."

"No, no. They hurt but not enough to need anything. I just… I remembered how I burned them," Nelson replied with a frown.

"How?"

"I came too in that cabin, I suppose after DeJean's last shot had worn off enough, and the place was filled with smoke. I remember seeing bright colors that seemed to be dancing in front of me and I tried to touch them. I don't know why or what I thought it was," he shrugged. "The pain was incredible. But it woke me up I suppose. Enough that I knew the house was on fire and I needed to get out. I really don't remember how I got out though. I remember the rope I was tied to giving way when the fire burned through it and I collapsed on the floor. Then I was crawling. I don't recall getting outside though. I remember thinking…"

"Thinking what?" Lee asked quietly when he didn't continue.

"I remember thinking I was going to die in a very bad way," Nelson answered with a crooked grin at Crane.

"Thankfully, you got out somehow. Chip and I found you about twenty feet from the back."

"I just wish I remembered. There's a lot I can't recall about what happened. Huge chunks of time are missing."

Lee frowned as he watched Nelson stare off into space as if trying hard to remember something that was probably better left unremembered.

"Admiral, I'm sorry you had to go through what you did. If I had been there, I…"

"Lee, DeJean waited a long time to get me. You couldn't be with me all the time. He would have eventually gotten to me. By the way, he told me he had someone on the inside at NIMR helping him. Who was it?" he asked trying to change the topic.

"Chuck Snyder. He told DeJean you and I had argued and when you left to go sailing. He also only brought you a portion of the drugs DeJean had manufactured. He was storing some of the drugs in his apartment."

"Chuck? I…I can't believe it. He's worked for NIMR for a few years. I guess money talks," he said sadly as he pondered Snyder's betrayal.

"Not always, Admiral."

"Lee, I…I've had a lot of time to think and I want you to know why I dislike your ONI activities so much," he said quietly after the silence between the men went on for a bit.

"You don't need to explain. I understand."

"No, I don't think you do. It's more than the time away from the Institute or _Seaview._ Much more in fact. The missions you go on…I hear about them. Some of them anyway. I know how close you come to not coming back from them sometimes. The last mission for instance, Johnson told me how close it was. I've kind of gotten use to having you around!" he joked. "But it's more than the physical danger. Much more I think."

"What else, sir?"

Nelson was quiet for a time and Lee watched him struggle to find the right words. "Lee, I've been with ONI. I know what each mission can take from you. I've done things…things I don't want to remember. Things I can't forget. It doesn't go away. I know the cost here and here," he said pointing to his head and chest. "I just don't want you to have to go through that."

"What did it cost you, sir?" Lee asked softly after a moment.

"Too much," he answered after a long minute. "More than I care to think about. Much more."

"I do understand, Admiral. I really do. I've been thinking a lot about ONI and the missions lately. Even before our…loud discussion. I have some idea what you mean about the cost…the toll…each mission takes. I don't know how long I'll continue. I just don't want you to think I don't want to be _Seaview's_ captain. Or your friend," he added softly as his harsh words came back to him again.

"I never doubted that, Lee. If I could take it all back, I would. But I think the saying goes, words once said can never be retrieved. Or something like that."

"I guess that's true. They can't be retrieved but they can be forgiven."

Nelson looked up at the tremble he heard in Lee's voice and smiled. "Yes, they can."

"Well, have you eaten your dinner, Admiral?" Jamie asked as he opened the door and walked in.

"Yes, Jamie. It took me all of thirty seconds to eat that massive amount of…and I use this word loosely…food."

"Good. Then how about we check your burns and see how they're doing? Skipper, you can wait outside if you'd like."

"I'll stay if it's all right, Jamie," he answered quietly.

"All right. Ready, Admiral?"

At Nelson's brief nod, Jamie unwound the gauze from the burns on his hands. Lee flinched at the angry blisters that covered the backs of both of the Admiral's hands and most of his fingers.

"Looks better," Jamie nodded in satisfaction, ignoring the look of disbelief Lee gave him. "Trust me, they were much worse, Skipper. Luckily only very bad second degree not third degree burns so you won't need any skin grafts. Perhaps some therapy though depending on how they heal. I'll just put some more medicine on and re-wrap them."

Jamie gently took care of Nelson's hands, being careful to move them as little as possible. "There. How do they feel?"

"Better actually."

"There's a numbing agent in the ointment. If they ever start to hurt again, I can have more put on. Just ask."

"Thanks, Jamie," Nelson said quietly as he flexed his fingers gently.

"Well, Admiral Nelson! It's good to see you awake, sir!"

Lee turned to the door and saw Weston enter, a smile lighting his face.

"Admiral, you remember Captain Weston. He's in charge of your care. He's just letting me help out," Jamie informed Nelson with a slight smile and a wink.

"Captain. I'd shake hands but I don't think that would be a good idea," Harry said with a little smile as he held his hands up to Weston.

"Understood, Admiral. How are you feeling, sir?"

"I'm better I think. Less cloudy up here," he answered pointing to his head.

"Good. We weren't sure what damage, if any, that drug you were injected with might have done. You gave us a scare when you didn't seem to know anyone. You were a bit out of it."

"I don't remember being awake and not knowing…"

"It doesn't matter now, Admiral," Lee interrupted. "You're all right now."

"You _are_ doing better," Weston acknowledged as he perused Nelson's chart. "Vital signs are better and your temperature is down. Latest blood results show your electrolytes are still out of whack but improving."

"So does that mean I can get out of here?"

"Out of here? Not for the next few days I'm afraid. You took quite a bit of punishment and I'm not just talking about the beatings. The drug and your severe dehydration caused some damage to your kidneys. Damage that seems to be healing but we won't know for certain for a few days yet. When I'm certain your injuries are healing, especially those to your kidneys, then we'll talk about your discharge. For right now, I'd like to take a look at your left eye and see if there's anything there we need to worry about. I have an eye specialist on call if we find there's been damage."

"I'm more than ready to find that out myself," Nelson declared with a touch of concern in his voice.

"Jamie, would you lower the lights a bit. We don't want your eye exposed to bright light after being covered for so long," he told Nelson who with one functioning eye, asked why.

After Jamie had lowered the lights, Weston began to gently pull the bandage from Nelson's eye. "I want you to keep your eye closed until I tell you to open it. Tell me if anything I do causes you pain."

"And he means anything, Harry," Jamie ordered sternly. "We need to know."

"Any pain, sir?" Weston asked.

"Some."

"Your inferior orbital bone…the bone under your eye… was fractured but is healing. Does it hurt when I press here?" he asked as he gently pressed on the bone under Nelson's eye socket."

"A little," Nelson answered, grimacing slightly.

"A little to Harry means more than he's willing to admit," Jamie informed Weston with a little smile, ignoring Nelson's huff.

"Pain is to be expected at this stage. It _will_ get better. The problem with this type of injury is obviously damage to the eye itself causing blindness or continued double vision but also a chance that tissues may have become entrapped within the fracture itself causing you to not be able to move the eye," Weston informed them as he continued his exam.

"What happens if the tissues have become entrapped?" Lee asked, concerned the admiral may lose his vision. How would he do the work he loved with only one eye?

"Surgery would be needed to try to free the tissue but I'm hoping that won't be needed. Now Admiral, I want you to try to move your eye without opening it. Slow, gentle motion, sir. Left, right, up and down then small circles. Very good. Does it hurt at all?" Weston asked as he watched Nelson's eye move behind the lid.

"Some. But it's not bad," Nelson answered with a frown.

"Very good. Does the eye move smoothly? Or does there seem to be any restriction to its movement?"

"Seems to move fine," Nelson answered after another minute, a touch of relief in his voice.

"Excellent. Now I want you to keep your right eye closed and open your left eye slowly and tell me what you see."

Nelson tried to open his still swollen eye but found he couldn't. "I don't seem to be able to open it. It's as if it's stuck together."

Jamie took a bit of gauze, wetted it in a basin of warm water Lee hadn't noticed and gently rubbed the eye. "Try now."

Again, Nelson tried to open his recalcitrant eye and was rewarded as the eye slowly opened. He blinked slowly trying to focus, to see something, anything.

"Well?"

A few minutes went by before Nelson responded. "I…I can see shapes," he replied blinking a few more times. "It's clearer now."

"Can you see Lee?" Jamie asked.

Nelson turned to Lee who watched him in anxiety, afraid the admiral's eye had been permanently damaged. "I can see him," he answered with the barest hint of a smile on his face. "Worry all over his face."

The concern drained from Lee's face and he broke out into a huge grin at Nelson's joke.

"That's good, Admiral," Weston said. "Is his face clear or are you experiencing any double vision?"

"There's more than one of him," Nelson sighed.

"Relax, Admiral. Double vision isn't unexpected at this stage of your recovery. The fact you can see is a good sign obviously. I believe the double vision will go away with more time. Now I want to keep the eye covered for a bit longer to let it heal some more."

"Thank you, Captain," Nelson said as the doctor put another pad over his eye, gently taping it down.

"My pleasure, Admiral. I must admit when you first came to us, I wasn't as hopeful of a good outcome as I obviously should have been. Jamie here has told me you have more lives than a cat."

Nelson laughed lightly. "If that's so, I've probably used up a lot, if not all, of them."

"Well, you rest now, sir. You've had a pretty busy day," he said ignoring the look of disbelief he threw at him.

"Busy? I ate, had my bandages changed and had an eye exam. Hardly busy," he replied grumpily.

"Nevertheless, I think it would be best if we left the admiral alone. You need rest if you're going to get out of here any time soon," Weston said as he and Jamie headed for the door.

"I'll be out in a minute," Lee called to the departing physicians.

"One minute. Then I come back in," Jamie ordered with mock severity.

"I didn't know they would kick me out so soon. I should have been here with you this afternoon instead of lounging on the beach."

"Lee, I don't need a roommate. I'm fine. I spent most of the afternoon asleep anyway," he said with disgust in his voice. "You should go back to the Institute and help Angie out. Things at the Institute must be…"

"Angie is fine. The Institute is fine. _Seaview_ is fine. Stop worrying. Besides, I think Chip is heading back to Santa Barbara tomorrow for a bit. Sharkey flew FS-1 down. It will make it easier to fly back and forth."

"What would be even easier is if you both flew back and stayed there."

"What? And leave you alone with the lovely Lt. Taylor?" Ignoring Nelson's snort he continued, "Seriously, I plan on staying here until you're discharged. Get used to it."

Nelson did his best to stare Crane down but the telltale flickering of his one functioning eye indicated he was on the verge of sleep again and sighed. "But get out for a bit. You and Chip should go out on the town."

"Did I hear my name mentioned?"

Both men turned to the voice at the door and Nelson smiled broadly. "Chip, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, sir. Awake and talking, too. I saw Jamie outside and he told me your eye's improving."

"That's what they tell me. I saw two of him," he said gesturing to Lee. "So I'm not sure how good a thing that is. One is enough."

"Ouch. Your lack of recognizable food has turned you nasty, sir!" Lee joked.

"Well, bring me some real food and we'll test your theory."

"Not until Jamie allows it."

"Gentlemen…time's up. Get out of here. Eat a nice dinner and don't come back until morning," Jamie ordered the men from the door.

"I guess we…" Lee started to say stopping as he watched Nelson's eye slide closed.

With a smile he turned to Chip and the two headed out.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The next morning broke with a gentle mist falling from leaden skies. Chip Morton walked quickly down the hall to the admiral's room anticipating a little visit before he flew back to NIMR to do some work.

Opening the door, he saw Nelson awake and sitting in a chair by the window, staring out at the gloomy skies.

"Chip," he called happily as he watched his executive officer enter with a smile on his face, a twinge of guilt filling him once again as he remembered the words he'd leveled at Morton when he was under the effects of the gas.

"It's good to see you out of that bed, sir," he grinned as he walked to Nelson, snagging a chair and pulling it to Nelson's side as he did.

"Good to be out. Walking around for a bit is next on my list of activities for the day," Nelson said sourly.

"Take it slowly, Admiral. You've been through a lot."

Nelson nodded briefly, acknowledging the truth in what Chip had said. He _had_ been through a lot. They all had. "I'm surprised Lee isn't with you. Did he fly back to the Institute?" he asked.

"No, actually I think he was still sleeping when I left. He's been running on fumes for the past few days."

"I'm glad he's getting some sleep. He's looked a bit ragged. I guess the past week hasn't been the easiest."

"No sir. Not on any of us. Not by a long shot."

"Tell me about it, Chip," Nelson asked softly. "I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you about what happened. And about Lee."

"You know most of it, sir."

"Where was Lee when you told him I was missing?" Nelson asked, wondering where he had run off to in his anger.

"Actually, he was on the phone to me asking where you were when Angie came in my office and told me you'd gone sailing and hadn't come back. Seems he'd called your office to talk to you but no one answered."

"He called on…Monday? Three days after I left?"

"Yes sir."

Nelson shook his head and blew out an irritated sigh. "If I had only waited," he muttered.

"I flew down here to San Diego in FS-1 to pick him up and we started searching."

"He was here? In San Diego?"

Chip nodded. "Said he met some friends and they kind of kicked his butt. Made him see he overreacted I guess. He was on his way back home to talk to you, to apologize, when we found out. We spent a lot of time searching for you. When we got the call from the Coast Guard _The Folly_ had been found but you weren't on it, we didn't know what to think," Chip said softly. "Then the Coast Guard captain told us another storm worse than the one you were supposedly lost in was coming. They told us they'd have to call off the search and…"

"Declare me dead," Nelson finished. "Hence the headline DeJean showed me."

"I have to tell you, sir that giving up the search for you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. By the time we had to turn back, we'd already been hit by lightning once. The winds were fierce and Lee was having trouble flying. I…neither of us…"

"I'm sorry, Chip," Nelson said softly as he watched Chip struggle to finish as he remembered how hard the decision to give up on Nelson had been. "I'm sorry for the pain you all went through. It just seemed as though the walls were closing in on me. I felt I had to get away for a bit…be by myself. After the last cruise…I guess I was still dealing with a lot of guilt over what happened, what was said."

Chip watched as Nelson lowered his head and absently picked at the bandages on his hands.

"Sir, we've been through this! What happened wasn't your fault! It was that gas you breathed!"

"Perhaps, but I still remember clearly what happened. It's like I was watching someone else do and say the things I did. I…I know you and I have talked about what I said to you, but I still feel guilty for making you think I didn't…don't…trust you. And the orders I gave that cost…"

"Listen to me, sir," Chip ordered as he leaned forward in his chair. "None of that was your fault. You and I talked on _Seaview_. We're good. You must believe that. I know you trust me. I know you've _always_ trusted me. Well, almost always. If you left because you felt some misplaced guilt, you were wrong. I don't blame you or hate you or feel slighted. And none of the crew thinks any less of you for what happened. In fact, I know they were out looking for you, also. Lt. O'Brien said a few of the crew that fly rented planes and headed out searching. More took out boats hoping to find you. Would they do that if they blamed you for what happened or had lost faith in you?"

Nelson pulled his gaze from the bandages to Chip's face, staring hard at him a bit as if searching for confirmation or validation, then shook his head and smiled slightly. "I find myself wondering sometimes where I found such good people to be on my crew. Or to be my friends," he added quietly. "But I can't help but feel Lee…"

"Lee what, Admiral?"

Both men turned to see Lee Crane standing just inside the door staring at them with an indefinable look on his face.

"You know the problem with hospital rooms is no one ever knocks," Nelson grumbled with a frown.

"Finish what you were about to say. Please," Lee said quietly as he walked further into the room.

Chip turned back to Nelson, watching him stare at Lee in consternation. "Maybe I should leave you two alone to talk. I need to fly back to NIMR and catch up on some work. I'll be back tomorrow. Remember what I said, Admiral. All right? No guilt. And take it easy. Don't give the staff any problems."

"I will do my best."

Chip walked slowly from the room as Lee stepped closer to Nelson.

"Finish what you were going to say. Please."

Nelson lowered his eyes and shrugged. "It wasn't important."

"Tell me. You couldn't help but feel I…what?"

"It's not important Lee," Nelson answered again. "Tell me what you and Chip did last night?"

"We went to dinner. Now, tell me what you were going to say," Crane ordered firmly, having an idea what it was Nelson had been about to say.

Nelson sat with his head lowered picking at the fraying ends of the bandage on his left hand.

"You are the most stubborn man," Lee growled in exasperation as he sat heavily into the chair Chip had just vacated. "You were going to say you thought I blamed you for what happened on the last cruise. Weren't you?"

"Don't you?" Nelson asked looking up, daring Lee to say he didn't.

"No, I don't! Why would you think that? _How_ could you think that?"

"How could I think that? I almost killed everyone on _Seaview_! The orders I gave… How could you not blame me! Blast it! _I_ blame me!"

"Admiral, it wasn't you. It was that blasted gas you breathed in! I know it! The crew knows it! Why don't you?"

"Because I remember! I remember that my actions cost a man his life. I remember that more could have died if you hadn't stopped me. His death is on my conscience and always will be. If only I hadn't tried to fix...I should have...I should have just..."

Lee stared hard at his friend who refused to look at him, feeling the waves of emotions that seemed to flow from him. "You kept this all inside instead of talking about it to me. Or anyone?"

"What was the point of talking about it?" he murmured.

"What was the point? The point was I would have told you, you were wrong! Look at me."

Nelson's head rose slightly to stare at Lee. "Admiral, I know it wasn't you that gave those orders. Not really. I know the pain, the guilt you feel but please, don't. I should have told you that everything was all right. I should have talked to you and made sure you understood that there was no condemnation or loss of faith in you before I left on that mission for ONI. But I…"

"You what, Lee?" Nelson asked quietly when he didn't continue.

Lee turned his eyes to Nelson with sudden understanding. "You thought I ran out on you, didn't you? You thought I took the ONI mission to get away from you. You thought I was angry at you or blamed you. Didn't you?"

"Did you?" he asked in a hushed voice after a moment had passed in silence.

"No! The mission was important. If I had known what you were thinking I wouldn't have gone! All this because you couldn't talk to me. All this because I didn't see what you were going through. Admiral, never think I don't trust you or that I blame you for what happened during that last cruise. Do you hear me?" he asked forcefully.

Nelson stared hard at Crane; a slight twitch to his lips and a brief nod told Lee that perhaps the man not only understand, but maybe finally believed his words. Perhaps not now but in the future.

"All this could have been avoided if you had only talked to me," Lee said in exasperation as he leaned back in his chair and continued to watch Nelson fiddle with the bandages.

"Lesson learned," Nelson answered in hushed tone, his head still lowered.

"You're going to need new bandages if you don't stop pulling at them."

"So I've already been told," Nelson laughed. "So I've been told."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 _Last chapter folks! I hope you have enjoyed my little story. Thank you to all who read it and my deepest thanks to all who took the time to write a review or send me a PM. I appreciate it more than I can say. Huge thanks go to my betas who read the story over and showed me where I went wrong. You guys are the best. Mila, I love your idea of a romance between Nelson and Angie. I would definitely read that! Thanks for your support._

A week passed before Nelson was released from the Medical Center with instructions to take it easy and stick to the restricted diet he was given for another week to ensure any damage to his kidneys from the drug and the dehydration had healed. His eye, although better, still bothered him, the vision still not back to normal. Although assured it would eventually be as good as it had been, he chafed at the restrictions to not overuse it. The accompanying bandage he was required to wear for hours at a time made him feel like a pirate.

He had returned to his home above the azure waters of the Pacific, happy to be back on his turf and somewhat in command of his life again for the first time in weeks. Within he found his baby sister, who had finally been tracked down in some hard to pronounce African village where she had been doing charity work, waiting to take care of him, despite his protestations he didn't need a nurse.

The long days spent virtually isolated from his Institute, his work and his _Seaview_ began to wear on Nelson and he heeded the call to escape one bright moonlit night, intending to find some peace, some answers to the disquiet that lurked deep inside.

Taking the not-so-well-hidden keys to his car, he drove carefully down the long driveway to the main Institute road and headed for the dock; stopping in the parking lot above the pier _Seaview_ and _The Folly_ were moored at.

Sitting alone and silent for some time, he stared at his creation, his pride and joy…his life…that bobbed gently in the slight current and smiled as he mentally walked through her corridors, reveling in the fact she was his, born from his imagination, his genius.

Turning his eyes to the other boat bobbing in the same current the smile slipped from his face as he saw the mast, still broken and lying on the deck, memories of the last time he had been aboard her flowing through him like a river. Opening the door, he walked slowly down the path, climbed aboard _The Folly_ and stared at the destruction the storm had wreaked on the boat that had become his refuge more times than he cared to think about.

Kicking at the broken mast and lines that still littered the deck; he remembered his last voyage on her. Born of a desperate need to escape all that he felt was wrong in his life…the pressure, the solitude, the guilt…he'd fled here only to be taken from her and imprisoned, tortured, perhaps changed forever.

There were times in his life when he had been alone; unsure of whom he could trust. Whether it was his early days at Annapolis, where he had been looked on as someone who didn't belong simply because he was younger than the others, or on any one of a number of battlefields or missions, he'd sometimes found he had only himself to rely on. And in some of those times, the darkest fear-filled times, he'd heard a voice telling him to give up. But he never had.

His wits, his intelligence, his training had been his forte, his salvation then. And now? Now the past few years had found him surrounded by people that cared, were steadfast in their loyalty and stood by him no matter what. _They_ had become his forte and ultimately, his salvation.

Sitting on the deck, he waited for the gentle rock of the boat to ease the tension he felt and he closed his eyes, grateful once again for the doctors that had cared for him, ensuring he could see from his damaged eye, his kidneys healed so that dialysis wasn't necessary any longer and his broken bones knitting. Yet, somewhere deep inside, he felt unrest and turmoil. A feeling that somehow he had failed filled him but he didn't know the cause. He'd felt it grow as he listened to Lee and Chip talk in the hospital. The guilt he'd carried since the last cruise had finally begun to ease but something still bothered him. Something still haunted him and he was unable to pinpoint what it was.

As he sat, swaying with his boat as she rocked gently, he heard again the words DeJean had taunted him with.

" _You're alone, Harry. No one is coming for you. No one is looking for you."_

The words were said with glee. The words were heard with a sense of hopelessness such as he had never felt before. No one knew. No one was coming: he was alone. That knowledge had robbed him of every last shred of hope he'd held onto.

"Admiral?"

Harry startled at the hesitant call, but knew with a certainty who he would find beside him.

"Lee," he said shortly without turning his head.

"You shouldn't be down here, sir. You aren't supposed to be driving yet."

"Yes, I know. But it wasn't far, was it?" he answered, looking up with a slight smile. "I just had to get out of the house for a bit."

"Your rock wasn't good enough," he joked as he sat down by Nelson, knowing the man could be found sitting on the large rock on the beach just down the long path to the ocean when worry, questioning or frustration filled him.

"Too close to Edith. She's been a bit…"

"Protective?" he finished for him.

"Yes. Quite protective," he agreed softly.

"I think she's just feeling guilty she wasn't there for you."

"I'm glad she didn't hear that I'd been declared dead," Nelson replied softly, pain filling him as he thought of his sister being told that he was dead. "I'm grateful Angie managed to find her before she saw a newspaper, if they had any in that village she was in."

"Yeah, I'm glad too. I didn't know what to do," Lee answered quietly spreading his hands in front of him. "The news services had already announced your death when we discovered that you might not be really gone. They printed retractions but, she might have still seen the headlines. Looking back, I guess I should have tried to put a hold on any news but…"

"But it seemed a foregone conclusion?"

"I suppose. I'm sorry I gave up on you," Lee murmured so softly, Nelson wasn't sure he'd heard right. "If it hadn't been for the Gathers, you'd be…well, not here."

"You know, Lee I've been sitting here trying to figure out why I have this unsettled feeling inside me, this voice telling me I failed somehow and I just now figured it out," he murmured.

"What?"

"I gave up. I listened to DeJean say there was no hope and I believed him and gave up. I knew you weren't coming. I knew I was all alone and I gave up," he said with self-loathing in his voice. "I don't think I've ever felt such an overwhelming sense of aloneness…hopelessness… before."

"I'm sorry, Admiral."

"For what?" Harry asked turning to his young friend.

"I gave up on you, too. I looked at the circumstances and heard people say there's no hope. Give up. And I did."

"Lee," Nelson laughed as he gazed out at the ocean. "What else were you going to do? I'm an excellent swimmer but to survive not one but two Pacific storms? I'm not that good. You had every reason to think I was dead."

"And you had every reason to think we weren't coming. You had every reason to give up."

Harry turned his head, his gaze held by the man beside him. The man he was honored to call friend. Even in the muted light from a nearby lamp and the still hazy vision in his left eye, Nelson saw the smirk that graced his captain's face.

"So DeJean was wrong," Harry said. "He took our hope away. But only for a brief time."

Lee reached over and clasped Nelson on the back of the neck and shook him gently. "Let's get out of here and get you back to the house before Edith finds out you escaped."

"Heaven help me if she does," he groaned.

"I drive," Lee ordered in a 'don't argue with me' tone.

"How about we make a stop at the office first and I get…"

"No. No stops."

"Just one little folder of…"

"No. You're supposed to be resting."

"I've _been_ resting."

"Then what are you doing down here?"

Nelson stopped and waited until Lee turned back to him, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Reminding myself that I'm not alone," he answered simply. "Reminding myself to never give up. Reminding myself that there's always hope. Always."

Lee pulled his gaze from Nelson's for a moment and nodded. "Yes, there's always hope," he agreed, a quiver to his voice as he turned back to his friend and with a smile grabbed his arm and gently pulled him up the path to his waiting car.

"You sure we can't make a stop at the office? All I need is…"

"Admiral, this is one time you need to give up."

Nelson chuckled as he allowed himself to be ushered up the walk to his waiting car. "Whatever you say, Lee. This time, you win. But don't get used to it."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Admiral."

 _The End_


End file.
